


Subject E

by Ook



Category: X Men: First Class (2011)
Genre: Alternative Universe- Modern Day, Captivity, Discussion of offscreen non-con, Erik is kind of feral, Escapes, Healing, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Hurt/Comfort, In which the author indulges her H/C addiction to a disturbing degree, It came from my brain, Kidnapping, Logan is Awesome and so is Raven, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Past Abuse, Phil probably is Phil Coulson and I should admit that to myself., Shaw is Creepy, Tea Ninjas, Trauma, sexy caretaking eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 45,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ook/pseuds/Ook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Subject E, unwilling medical experiment, runs away from the lab which has him captive, and is taken in by Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.</p><p>Also known as the one wherein the author, no, I mean Shaw,  did Terrible Things to Erik, and Charles helps him recover, for a change.</p><p>This is no longer a WIP. It is complete(!) I am sure you're all <i>very</i> surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wanderer said they'd like to see this; so here it is! 
> 
> It's possible I over did the H/C in this.

Subject E has been outside for a long time, now. He would have had to endure at least four Tests by now, if he hadn’t got out. E doesn’t know where he is, where the lab techs or Sir are, and he doesn’t care, except that he knows he never wants to go back. He likes outside, at least the green parts with plants and without concrete or staring faces. 

He ran for days once he got away. Days and nights, hiding or making his way through hedges, in alleys and empty buildings, anywhere he wouldn’t be seen. He found food sometimes. Once he stole it. The window was open and he was hungry. It tasted good.

This part of outside is strange. There’s a very large building in the middle of it; large enough to be a centre or several labs. But it’s made of lots of stones; stone and glass, wood and metal. E likes to look at it. It’s mostly empty; an old man goes inside a few times and that’s all. The plants around it are clearly laid out deliberately, the colourful ones and the trees and the grass all make shapes, patterns. Some of it is too low and open for E not to be seen if he goes there by day, but at night there are no searchlights, no alarms or dogs. It feels safer than most of the places he’s seen since he got away. 

E decides to stay a little while.

There is a lake, for water if E is thirsty or dirty, and there are bins in other houses near enough, if he gets hungry, and the people there are very wasteful. There is less metal lying about in the outside here, so he gets into the habit of keeping a ball of it; made of cans and nails, in the pocket of the trousers he found. They are thin, and marked with another colour in splashes, but they are dark, meaning they are harder to see, and less ragged than the pair he had in the lab, so he wears them over the other pair. 

He found a grey, fuzzy top in one of the bins by the road; it’s torn but it’s warmer than the T shirt from the lab.E wishes someone would throw away shoes that fit him. The lab shoes wore out and fell apart in the first few days he was outside, and he hasn’t been able to find anything else. His feet are very cold now, and sometimes they bleed. At night, he wraps them carefully in his blanket, but he nearly always wakes up almost frozen.

He’s still not going back.

*********************

 

E has been living quite happily near the very big old building, for some time when suddenly, more people start going in and out of it. At first he thinks he about moving on, but then he decides, as long as none of them spot him, he’s probably ok. This is partly because none of the new people look like they work in labs or test people. There are no white coats, no sneering faces, and no bad arguments that E can see or hear or smell. 

He can’t see any test subjects being brought in, and there’s still no medical or scientific waste in any of the bins. It’s also partly because the waste that does go in the bins is quite good. E finds fruits and cooked meats and sweet things, often hardly wet at all, and mostly not rotting yet. E doesn’t go through them every night- too obvious, even if they don’t have dogs or alarms. The other houses have food sometimes, and if not, well, being hungry hurts less than the tests did.

The people in the big building are interesting to watch. They don’t just work in the inside, they come outside as well. Sometimes Test Subject E can’t tell if they are working or on a break. Some of them are smaller, children, maybe. All of them are young; no one is old enough to be the scientist or tech. It’s odd. 

The children a’re the ones E is most worried about. They are easiest to hurt by accident, he knows. Also, they get everywhere. E takes to spending more of his daytime hours up a tree, where he’s harder to spot. It makes it easier to watch them all. He’s high enough to look through more of the windows, now. He can’t see a single laboratory thing.

The smaller ones run about sometimes with the bigger ones, and maybe they’re having tests on speed and endurance, but that can’t be right because they seem to be enjoying them. Nobody screams or yells in pain or anger or fear. There is a lot of yelling, but not that kind. E knows those kinds of yell very well indeed. 

There’s one E watches in particular. He’s a young man with very blue eyes. Sometimes he sits in a metal chair with wheels; sometimes he limp-lurches about the place on two sticks. They are metal, too, and E thinks he straps metal to his legs as well. The other people all smile at him, and he hears them call him “Professor”

That worried E, the first time he heard it, because it sounds like the names the lab workers used for each other. He doesn’t want to go back, so he’s careful to keep an eye on him all the time. The fact that he usually has metal on him or very near him makes it easier; E can sense distinctive metal, and knowing he could tie this Professor up with his own chair makes him feel safer on days like today, when the other man is outside, sitting on a bench.

E is hungrier today. He’s learnt to doze, hidden in a tree or a ditch, but the hunger keeps him alert. The bins haven’t had anything edible for a couple of days, so he’s been drinking lake water and hoping someone will fill a bird feeder soon. He thinks that’s what they are; at least he sees birds and squirrels eating the food and no one chases them away. He’s not sure why people feed animals that they can’t use or learn from. 

No one ever fed _him_ for no reason, Before; even if he did well in a test and didn’t scream too much. It doesn’t make sense, that people have to earn food and wild animals get it free. Perhaps the tests on the animals happen when E can’t see them.

E’s not really people, anyway. Not according to Sir. 

E is a resource, a tool. Nothing more. Just like the other test subjects, the ones who died, or went to zoos or were sent away to other labs. Sir said that E was the most useful, so he had to stay. Everyone else went away. Then E sent himself away too, and he’s never going back. Still, E is glad people do leave food for animals. It keeps him going. 

He can’t always eat the food, but if it’s nuts or bread or scraps he can. As long as he does it at night, or early in the morning, people simply assume the birds were hungry, or another animal got to the food. And bird feeders are usually further away from doors that the bins for waste, so they’re safer to go for.

The professor shifts on his bench, and picks up another book. E watches him, warily. He glances up from the page and looks around him. E freezes, breathing shallowly, until the young Professor goes back to reading. He’s probably too far away to be identified, but E has no intention of being spotted, ever. Sir said that he’d keep him forever, because no one else wanted him. E thinks that’s probably true. 

E knows that if he’s seen, he’ll be sent back eventually. His calf cramps painfully, protesting at the crouched position E has forced himself into up in the tree. The foliage should give him cover, but he can’t risk shaking the canopy; so he sets his teeth and ignores it. He bites his lip and counts his breaths. The pain will go away soon enough. It’s only a cramp, not anything else. It’s bearable.

The professor turns another page, reading slowly. E wonders what he’s reading. It seems interesting. E can read, too. A little. One of the janitors taught him the alphabet, and showed him a book, a long time ago. He can usually puzzle out the sounds of words, if not their meanings. It’s helped before, until the tech realised they had to hide their notes from him. 

E wasn’t supposed to read. There was nothing E would need to know, in books. That’s what Sir had said about the reading, when he sent the janitor away- that it was nothing E needed. They’d set up tests, trying to trick him into reading, but E was clever. He’d been frightened, so he pretended to have forgotten, as soon as he could. The tests had hurt. Sir had stopped hurting him faster, once he was satisfied E no longer knew what letters went with what sounds.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E watches. Charles watches. Logan makes sandwiches.

Charles can feel someone watching him.

That person is very interested in hiding, in books and in food. He can tell that much, but not much more without a direct scan that would be quite noticeable, and also, a violation of privacy. Charles has no problem in violating privacy in self defense, but the watcher’s mind does not radiate intention of harm to anyone or thing around him. He also isn't a voyeur or a spy. 

Charles has run into one or two of those, briefly. The greasy or cold, clinging feel of minds like that watching him are quite distinctive; Charles can sense them from miles away. Usually he just makes them wander away, and forget him. Occasionally, they re think their life choices, and don’t know why, but only occasionally.

This watcher’s mind is a little unusual, to be honest. 

Charles can’t skim the information he needs, the man’s name, intentions or purpose off the top of his conscious mind because it just isn’t there. There’s just this wary alertness observing him. He’s not thinking in words very much, either. He- Charles is fairly sure it’s a he- doesn’t think of himself by name at all. Not since Charles became aware of him hiding, anyway. 

The watcher’s mind is mostly just feelings. Fear and caution are the main ones. The man’s feet are very cold, and he’s hungry. His joints ache. Charles thinks he might be the homeless man his neighbour, Mrs Brisby was complaining about last week. She had wanted the police to be called, for someone to “do something”. Charles has every sympathy for those rejected by society, who fall through the cracks of the welfare system, so he just smiles and nods along.

Of course, Mrs Brisby occasionally thought his students were homeless punks, too. She had referred to his embryonic school as an orphanage, from time to time, much to Charles’ irritation. Charles had felt sorry for the person she’d talked about being in her gimleted eye, and had politely nudged her into another conversation. 

Charles is beginning to feel hungry himself, unless that’s bleed through from the lurker. He doesn’t want to move from his seat though. Partly because it is really very tiresome, the amount of time and energy it takes for him to get anywhere, now. Partly because he’s intrigued by their visitor, and doesn’t want to spook him into leaving before he can find out more.

A thought strikes him.  
 _-Logan?-_ He sends, telepathically. Logan’s up and awake, but isn’t doing anything important, that Charles can feel.  
 _-?_ \- Logan sends as a response.  
 _-I hate to ask you, but could you bring me something to eat?_ \- 

Logan is instantly curious. Charles’s appetite has never really recovered since the accident.  
 _-Bein’ outside’s given you an appetite?_ \- He sends. Charles can feel him moving into the kitchen as he does so. He’s grinning.  
 _Something like that._ -  
 _-?_ -  
 _-There’s someone around. I think they’re hungry._ \- Charles sends his awareness that the lurker is not dangerous.  
 _-Tempting them into the open with a sandwich?_ \- Logan is amused. _-Alright, Prof, I’ll help you bait the trap._ -  
 _-Not a trap. Just a welcome._ \- Charles protests.

Logan snorts, in Charles’ head.  
 _-Also, when you come, can you be discreet? I don’t want to scare away my watcher. He feels_ \- very _nervous._ \- The response is quick.  
 _-Shy guy, huh? ‘Kay. I’ll be nearby if you need help_ \- .

E freezes when another person appears. He is squat, and hairy, but heavily built, bigger than the professor. E watches, worried at first. It would easy for the new man to hurt the professor. Or E, if he saw him. E doesn’t like being hurt. He doesn’t like people being hurt, either. But then he sees the hairy man has brought food, and a blanket. Saliva rushes into his mouth, and he has to swallow, again and again. 

He’s so hungry, even just the sight of food makes him drool. He blinks. The hairy man spreads the blanket over the Professors’ knees and leaves. E relaxes minutely. The Professor goes back to his book, and reads on. He eats one of the sandwiches. It looks good. E swallows again. Then the Professor calls aloud; to the garden’s empty lawn. “Fancy a bite?” and holds the plate up invitingly to the open air.

E goes rigid. Has he been spotted? He waits for a long minute, ready to scramble down from his tree and run, if that’s the case. He is sure he will be able to outrun the man, who needs sticks to walk. No one comes. Nothing happens. Time passes. The professor sighs, and puts the plate down. He goes on reading.

E doesn’t move. Maybe he hadn’t seen him, after all. The man keeps reading. E keeps a wary eye on him, but nothing happens. E waits. He’s been tricked before; he won’t be fooled again, if he can help it. He is never going back there.

Charles reads on, trying to project calm and friendliness as he waits. Logan’s sandwiches are good. The watcher’s wary caution spikes into fear when Charles calls to him, and for a moment he thinks he may have spooked him for good. But the watcher doesn’t flee immediately, which gives Charles hope. Time passes. 

Charles can tell the other hasn’t gone away; his hunger is radiating stronger than ever. But he doesn’t come any closer. He’s still too frightened by Charles; by other people. Perhaps he’d better leave the sandwiches, and hope the watcher gets them when everyone’s gone.

E stays up in his tree. The other man keeps reading, alone. No one else comes near. Eventually, the man sighs, and puts his books away. It’s getting dark. He picks up his metal sticks and limps away, leaving the plate and the blanket on the bench, alone in the dusk. 

Alone except for E.

E is in a quandary. Possibly the food was an offer. Possibly it was a trick. It’s been left behind. If E goes for it, will that alert them to his presence? It could have been a test, a trap. He is so hungry. He can’t risk being caught. His stomach growls, softly. The sandwiches just sit there. Lights go off in the downstairs windows. Eventually, E decides to risk it. He slides down from the tree, quietly, and listens. 

Nothing. 

He can’t sense any metal around the sandwiches, any spy ears or cameras. He is so hungry. He creeps along the hedge until he’s close, and still hidden. He waits some more. Nothing. Finally, E moves. He snatches the sandwiches from the plate, and tucks them into his shirt. Carefully, he dissembles one, scattering across the plate as if an animal had got at the food. It’s hard, to leave even one behind, but it’s necessary.

He touches the blanket. It is thick and warm, soft and pleasant to feel. Much better than the sacks and plastic sheeting he uses. E gets cold easily. It’s tempting to take it too. But while animals might eat leftover food, they wouldn’t steal a blanket. E leaves the blanket behind. He moves swiftly, away from the building and its grounds, careful not to drop crumbs, until he’s near an old shed in an alley. 

He squats, then, and eats one sandwich, very slowly. Not old, wet, stale or mouldy. _Delicious_. When it seems clear that the sandwiches aren’t drugged or poisoned, he eats them all, one by one. Sandwiches don’t stay edible for long. He tried hiding some once, in the labs, and the sandwiches went hard, and then green, and he got zapped by the shock stick when they found them. With a full belly, that night and day, he sleeps well.

The next morning, Charles finds the sandwiches gone and the blanket left. He’s pretty sure it was his- _their_ watcher. Quietly, he lets the other adults know about their observer; a lone, possibly mutant, hanger about. Not a threat. And hungry. There’s some grumbling, but they all agree to keep an eye out, and to not tell the children. Charles leaves food out as often as he dares, and sometimes clothes, too- he recalls how cold the other man had felt. 

It makes him sad, to think of someone too afraid to speak to anyone, or be seen, shivering on the outskirts of life. The food disappears often; the clothes never. After the first month, Charles is very strongly tempted to wait until the next time he feels the other man’s mind close enough to the mansion, and then use his powers to force him into the warm, where he can be fed and clothed and looked after, properly. He wants to make the wanderer come in from the cold.

He resists, for now. 

Charles knows he has _no idea_ what has happened to this man; what trauma he has survived that makes him feel he has to hide from everyone. Blundering in with well-intentioned telepathy could make everything worse. The watcher is not in any immediate danger of death, as far as he can tell, so he just has to wait, and hope.

Charles doesn’t like it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean throws a stone, Alex is protective and E falls out of a tree

E thinks about moving on. He’s still not sure if the sandwich man knew he was there or not. He can’t risk being caught. But he knows this area. There a lots of places to hide, and several sources of food and water. He likes knowing that. E likes the independence and the freedom of movement that he never had in the lab.

Nothing happened when he ate the food, and E thinks they may have blamed an animal… except it keeps happening. People eat outside and leave extra food out. More than they ever did before the day of the sandwiches. Sometimes they leave blankets, or clothes, too.

E is suspicious. None of the food is drugged or contaminated, but they could be trying to fool him. Somehow. Maybe they think it’s an animal, and they’ll be angry if they find out it’s him. Maybe they’ll want to send him away if they know he’s here. They’ll tell the labs. He doesn’t touch the clothes. Ever. He’s been tested before, he knows what they look for. How they trap you.

For a while he is more wary, and avoids the big building. Sometimes he manages not to take the food, or all the food that’s there. Once or twice an animal gets to it before he does. Sometimes E lies hidden, eating the food they’ve left and watches or listens to the people in the big building go about their days. He likes that. The people in the big place are not mean to each other. No one screams or bleeds or anything. 

The children are entertaining to watch. They do a lot of yelling and scuffling, but it’s never real yelling. E can tell. E likes to think he can help keep them safe. Stop anyone taking them away or ... or whatever happened to him. It feels like a repayment for the food they leave.

He’s doing that today. Not the food part- no one left anything he could take, and he doesn’t go through their rubbish any more. They moved the bins too close to the house. E can’t be sure he could run in time, if someone heard and came out of the door. Instead, E walked over to one of the other buildings, an hour away. They didn’t throw out much, there, but there was some bread near the top. It was hard and dry, but E was able to soak it in the lake, and eat it that way. It’s something to keep him going.

He found an old small building, in the grounds of this building, made of glass and metal, hidden by lots of sharp, tangled plants. Much of the glass was broken, but it was still drier than standing in the rain and hidden far away from the big building to be almost safe. Safe enough that E actually slept some of last night. That’s unusual, now there are people in the big building.

Often he finds somewhere quiet and hidden and sleeps during the day. It’s easier to cope with cold or hunger and thirst if he’s asleep, and it is much harder to get around in daylight with people, especially the children, about. The children are yelling again. E grumbles to himself; they’re noisy. And he didn’t climb the bigger tree, so he can’t stretch out and doze on the broadest branch.

Still, it was raining earlier, and everything is still damp and cold. Perhaps they’ll go inside again early, and E will be able to move. As it is, if they don’t, he will be stuck out here until maybe twilight. The two pale boys are walking and arguing with the dark one about something. They are kicking a can along as they talk. E tracks them by it; it’s metal, and it sings to E’s senses as it arcs through the air. The shouting is shrill, but no one is getting hurt. That’s good. People shouldn’t hurt each other. Children should be safe. One of them picks up the can and throws it; the others yell at him.

Then one of them shouts, and points, and E’s heart freezes in his chest. He’s been spotted. Now the children will tell the adults, and E must leave, must get away, because if anyone sees him, they’ll tell the authorities, and he’ll be sent back to the lab.

“Hey. Hey you! Quit spying on us, pervert!” 

The blond boy has his arms around the other two. Either they’re holding him back or he’s trying to drag them away. Then one of them throws a stone, the other the can, at E. E bats away the can with his senses, and the children all gasp, surprised as the can rockets away at a right angle.

He forgets about the stone until it cracks into his hand. He lets go, startled, and when he grabs at the branch again, his grip slips in the damp. He tries again for the branch, sways too far to the left, and, flailing, falls out of the tree. The children yell. He hits a couple of branches on the way down, before thudding into the ground, hard. There’s a cracking, popping noise. An electric bolt of familiar pain zings up his right leg. 

E knows that sound and this kind of pain. He’s broken a bone again, probably a leg bone. He tries to stand up, and crumples to the ground. Helpless again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, Alex calls for help. Eventually, E accepts it.

Alex doesn’t like bullies, or perverts, or weirdos. He liked them even less after foster care. He’s always kept a wary eye out for perverts and freaks. Not freaks like him and the others here, and not freaks like Jimmy; who Alex knew before everything went wrong. Jimmy was big, but stayed small in his head. 

Learning difficulties, his mom had said. He liked trucks, would play with them all day. Other kids called Jimmy a dumb freak, and it made the big guy cry. Alex made the kids stop teasing, and his parents were so proud. It’s why Alex remembers him, even after so much crap.

Sean and Armando- Darwin- don’t seem to know to look out for perverts and bullies. So Alex knows this means he’s gotta take extra care of them. Like he did for Scott, before they took his baby brother away from him. That was his fault though, if he does better, he might be allowed to keep these friends.

The Professor says he doesn’t have to worry, that he’s safe here, but Alex knows better. There are people who can hurt you everywhere. You can’t ever feel really safe. When he spots some grown up stranger lurking in a tree, his first thoughts are not kind ones. Alex throws the tin can, and shouts. Sean throws a stone, because he doesn’t dare yell, not with his voice doing what it does. 

But instead of cursing them back, or running off, the dude flinches and falls out of the tree without making a noise. He bounces off one branch, and then another, before he hits the ground with a big thump. There’s a nasty, dull snapping sound. The dude tries to stand, fails, and settles for scrambling away, dragging one leg. He hasn’t said anything, not even a cry of pain, just gasped and wheezed. 

Alex feels a bit uncertain. He doesn’t like hurting people, even staring perverts, by accident. And the way the tin can moved, he might even be a freak like them. Alex thinks the tree man might be a bit like Jimmy was, as well. He’s tall, and his hands are huge, even if he’s skinny and filthy. 

His pale green eyes are wide and scared as he stares at Sean and Darwin, scared as Scott was when the bigger boys teased him, and that’s just wrong. Even with a broken leg, the tree dude’s obviously much stronger than the boys. They should be scared of him; he’s a grown up. But he’s scrabbling with his feet, trying to crawl away from Alex when he can’t even stand, and it’s just wrong, wrong, wrong.

  

E is terrified. The children will bring adults. The adults will bring him back to the lab. Sir will find him again, and he can’t, he can’t survive it again. That’s what people do; they take you away and then- He has to get out of there. He tries to stand again, bracing his back against the tree trunk, and fails. 

The children follow him, babbling. He doesn’t bother listening to their noise. He resists the temptation to strike out at them; there are too many of them and he can’t move fast enough. And they are children. E doesn’t hurt children. He settles for dragging himself round the tree, and tries to crawl towards the bushes, unsuccessfully. 

Alex has no idea what to do. Sean isn’t much better; he’s just staring at the dude with his head cocked on one side like the world’s freckliest ginger puppy. Dumbass. Alex pokes him. Sean pokes him back. Alex pokes him again. Darwin’s not a dumbass. He starts talking, in a quiet way, to the dude. His eyes stop flickering around, looking for an escape, and lock on to Darwin as he talks.

“Hey, sir, are you ok? That was a big fall.” The dude just stares at him. “Can you understand me?” Darwin continues. 

The guy opens his mouth, and a weird croaking comes out. No words at all. Alex isn’t sure if that means he understands or not. Maybe he can’t talk, either. Jimmy could, but some of his friends couldn’t.

“We’re just kids, we’re not going to hurt you. I’m sorry we made you fall.” Darwin's voice is gentle and calm.

“Yeah, dude, you don’t have to be afraid of us. We’re just kids.” adds Alex. No need to worry him about their freakish powers just yet.

“I’m not just a kid,” says Sean. “I’m Banshee, I’m gonna-“ Alex puts a hand over his mouth. Sean never knows when to quit fooling around.

“SEAN! Will you shut up? You’ll scare him!”

“Make me.” Sean scowls. 

Alex shoves Sean. Sean shoves him back. Alex moves to hit him. Darwin sighs. He does that a lot.

“Don’t” The word jerks out of the tree dude, like he was punched. They all jump, startled by his voice. It’s rough, and stony, like his face.

“What?” Alex blurts the word out.

“Don’t. Hurt. Don’t hit.” His hands move restlessly, holding on to each other. He shoves himself so he’s sitting upright. Each word comes out hard, like it’s a separate struggle.

“We’re not gonna hit you.” Darwin tries to soothe him down.

“Not.” he looks impatient. “Each. Other.”

“Ohhh.” 

Great. Life lessons from a tree hugging- tree falling- weirdo, yet. Still, Alex has to concede he has a point. They shouldn’t be hitting each other.

“Sorry, dude. Hey, can I call you dude?” he asks. Sean chimes in, immediately.

“Yeah, what’s your name?” 

Tree dude looks completely blank.

He’s got a funny accent, Darwin notes. Not completely American. Some kind of European, maybe?

“Name?” he asks them, confusedly. How can he not know what a name is?, thinks Alex.

“What do people call you? I’m Darwin.” He glowers at Alex, he better not make fun of his real name. 

Alex doesn’t. Darwin hates being teased. “He’s Sean, I’m Alex.” Sean punches Alex on the arm. He’s going through a stage of wanting to be called Banshee all the time. 

Tree dude looks at him, and Sean flushes, and mumbles an apology. Tree dude nods, and thinks for a bit. Then his face seems to tighten. He speaks, warily.

“Test.” 

What kind of a name is that? Thinks Alex.

“Test Subject E.” he spits, at last.

“What?” Were his parents hippies? Or has tree dude not understood the question?

“E. They called me.” He clarifies, jerkily. He looks at their blank faces, and sighs. “In. The Labs. Subject E.” His shoulders hunch again.

“Yes, but what do people call you when you aren’t in “the labs?”” Darwin asks.

“Never.” He says, angrily. “Never out of labs.” He turns over his arm, and shows them a tattoo there. It’s thick, black lines and numbers that make no sense to Alex. “Always. Until now.” His hands are shaking. He squares his shoulders. “Staying. Out.” 

That comes out fiercely, like he’s afraid someone will try to put him back, Darwin thinks. Well, they better not try anything near the mansion. The Professor

will stop them dead. “Oh my God.” Sean says, staring at tree dude’s arm in horrified realisation

It’s a barcode, Alex realises. The tattoo is a _bar code._ Alex feels sick. 

Someone marked this guy like he was a, a, pack of gum, or a candy bar. He doesn’t want to have to deal with it any more. So he does what they should probably have done as soon as they saw Tree Dude.

_-Professor!_ \- He yells in his head. He’s answered instantly. The Prof is good like that.

_-What is it, Alex?_ \- The Professor’s voice is kind, in his head. Alex knows he doesn’t deserve that kindness right now. He couldn’t keep Scott safe, and now he’s hurt this dude. This dude who escaped from a lab. 

_-There’s this strange guy-_ -Alex’s eyes move, scanning the area, without his instruction. He relaxes.

Alex recognises the signs of the Professor using his sight like a security camera. E sits and looks at them. He tries to move his leg and winces. Alex feels another wave of guilt.  


_-Really, Alex, I do think- His voice sharpens. -wait, a man in a tree? He’s hurt?_ -

_-I think we made him fall and he’s maybe slow and it’s my fault and he says he escaped and_ -He is interrupted by the Professor.

_-Slow down, Alex. I’m coming. You’re on the South Lawn?_ -

 _-Edge of it._ -Alex mutters.  


_-Right._ \- 

The Professor’s mental voice takes on an echo that Alex knows means he’s taking to all of them at once. _-Children, I think this man may be a mutant, but he’s hard to read. He’s in pain. And he’s extremely anxious. Please let him calm down, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.-_

E cocks his head, like he might be listening for something. He still looks tense and scared.  


“Calm him down.” the Professor says. Well, Alex isn’t sure about that. He doesn’t do calm very well, as much as he tries. He can do “quiet” sometimes, and he can do explosions, but that’s about it. Something about the barcode gets to him. People aren’t products. 

Alex fumbles in his pocket. Alex always carries food with him now. Foster care taught him that.  


“Hey, do you want a cookie?” He’s not going to call him “Test Subject.” That’s not a name.  


“Yeah, you got some?” Sean asks, hopefully.  


“Not you, Sean,” Alex snaps. Darwin looks approving. Alex tries not to preen.  
“It’s one of Hank’s, it’s real good.” 

Mr E – Mystery, hah, that’ll work- looks blank. Alex holds out the cookie, but Mr E doesn’t seem to know what it is. He just stares.  


Alex breaks the cookie in half, and eats his half. He puts the other half in Mr E’s hand, moving slowly, in case he gets scared, like a feral cat or dog might. Mr E sniffs the cookie, warily. 

He never stops staring at them. The cookie is one of Hank’s double chocolate chip, and even after an afternoon sitting in Alex’s pocket, it smells good. Cautiously, he chews. A wide smile breaks over his face as the taste comes through. Sean thinks it makes him look like a shark. He says so.

“Yeah, a homeless shark, look at his clothes” says Alex. “Who’s coming with the Professor?”  


“What, you think he’s had time to stop by Abercrombie and Fitch lately? It’s Mr Logan, I think,” says Darwin, squinting till his eyes change.  


“Yeah, because he’s not scary at all.” Grumps Sean.

Darwin smiles. Alex offers Mr E another cookie. He doesn’t have to demonstrate this time. After a wary look, maybe to check if Alex really means it, the dude takes the sweet treat out of his hand with another smile. It’s not quite as stunning as the first, but Alex still feels good about it. Mr E is way too thin; and he’s going sort of grey.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor takes charge. E stops trying to run.

E told the children what people called him, like they asked, and they reacted so strangely. He doesn’t understand. None of them are making sense. His leg is aching very badly now, and he’s starting to feel a little dizzy. There are black dots in his vision. He ought to be thinking of how he’s going to get out, how he’s going to manage now he can’t walk. But the sweet food he took from the tall one- Alecks, he said he was- is deliciously distracting. 

They caught him, but now they are feeding him. 

He doesn’t understand. His leg hurts. The children are bickering, and he doesn’t listen, distracted by the food and the pain in his leg. He tips his head back, and lets the sunlight warm his face. E rests for a moment. His head is swimming. Everything seems fuzzy. His leg hurts more. E isn’t sure what to do about it. When they broke his arm, it swelled up, and after the tests were done, they wrapped it in plaster. E doesn’t have any plaster. Would wrapping his leg in metal help? Could he make himself sticks to help him walk, like the sandwich man uses?

E hears a scraping noise, and his eyes fly open again. He looks to where the boys are staring, and freezes. More people are coming. The squat, hairy man is pushing the sandwich leaver along in a wheeled chair. They are heading straight for the children, which means they must have already seen E. 

He scrabbles for a moment, trying again to get up, or crawl, to get away, to go and keep going, like he has been since he got away from the lab. His leg flares up in agony, but E’s desperation means he manages to lever himself upright this time. He tries to take a step, just one step away, and nearly falls. It’s no good. 

The children are staring. He is outside, but he is trapped. He gasps in pain, as he sways against the tree trunk. His eyes are wet, but he ignores it. He wants them all to go away. He can’t. He has the metal ball in his pocket, but he can’t- won’t- hurt children. And they only have to tell someone they saw him using metal and they’ll find him and he’ll have to go back-

 _-No one is sending you anywhere.-_ A gentle voice speaks kindly to him.

What. What was that? Someone said something to E _inside his head_.  


_-I did. My name is Charles._ \- The other man says, still silently and still pleasantly. 

He gives the three boys a long look. They all twitch. Charles says, politely  
“Now, please.”  


And they all scatter away, giving E sympathetic looks as they go. E stares. The young sandwich leaver smiles sweetly at him. The squat man snorts a laugh. E twists to face this new threat. His hands turn into fists and go up, ready to hit, and he snarls. He's read, if they're planning to hurt him. E pulls the metal out of his pocket and holds it with his mind. He won’t go down without a fight.

 _Please calm your mind._ The Professor says to him.

E is lost, bewildered. He can't run, and there are people too close to him, who can hurt him. How can he be calm? He pulls the metal into two balls, using one to keep himself upright, like a hook in the air. He shapes the other into a blade, which he floats, ready to strike out. 

And then he sways, slipping off the metal prop, and he's falling, again. He’s bracing himself for the pain of impact, when someone catches him. E struggles, briefly, then the hairy man growls at him, impatient  


“I got ya, bub. Quit squirming.” 

E goes limp, automatically, as old habits cut in. The less you resist, the less they hurt you. Mostly. He lowers E to the ground almost gently.  


“Names’s Logan," the hairy one adds, shortly. 

There’s something odd about him. He feels like metal. Metal under the skin, under the flesh. How? It’s distracting. E feels a little less scared of him, though. If Logan tried to hurt, E, he could call this metal, or freeze it, easily. Then the hairy man would be stuck.

 _-What is your name?_ \- The question is gentle, for a voice in his head.  


_-Test Subject E_ he responds, automatically, transfixed between his panic and those bright blue eyes looking at him. He hardly notices that he’s responded with thoughts and not his voice.  


“What the hell? That ain’t a name, kid.” Logan snorts. 

How did he hear inside E’s head? Why didn’t he speak inside E’s head like the other man had? Then E remembers; he was asked a question. That’s something else the labs taught him; answering questions. Obediently, he answers, as well as he can.

“They. The lab people called me. E.” 

There is a pause. E thinks they don’t like what the lab people called him. “Or this.” He shows them both his designation mark. Charles’ knuckles whiten on the arms of his wheeled chair. Logan snarls.  


“ _Who? Where?_ ”The feeling of metal gets stronger. 

E blinks, confused and frightened by their reactions. He feels as if he is drowning.  
“Not going back! Got out, I’m not…” E’s throat hurts. He closes his eyes, in pain. The feeling of drowning gets stronger. He is babbling. He hasn’t spoken so many words together since they took away the janitor.  


“Course you ain’t going back.” Logan growls. 

E’s eyes snap open again. Of course not? Do they think he’s stupid enough to believe that?  


_-No. You're not.-_ Charles slips out of his wheelchair and lurches a step towards him. 

Logan puts a hand out to help Charles, as he sinks to the ground facing E. His eyes are burning blue and kind. They’re like nothing E has ever seen before. He thinks they reach right through into him; like his voice reaches inside E’s head. 

_-We can help you, E. Let us help.-_ He holds out his hands to E. 

E stares at him, blankly. He doesn’t understand. Help? Help him? What is there to help? What is going on?  
“Why?” Why are they asking his permission? E has never been able to stop anyone doing things to him before.

Charles winces.  


“Because we can. Because you need it, bub” Logan glances at his leg.  


_-Because you’re like us-_ adds Charles, certain as the earth, in E's head.  
“Don’t understand.” he says, almost desperately.

This doesn’t happen, to E. People don’t say he’s like them. People don’t help him, they don’t- This might be a trick, a test, a trap. E can’t think what the two of them _want_. 

_-You’re gifted, like us.-_ Charles says, tapping his fingers to his temple, meaningfully.  


“Yeah, bub. Special.” Grunts Logan. At a glance from Charles, he holds out a hand. Curls it into a fist. 

E fights not to tense up, hide his face. Sometimes they hit more if you’re afraid.  


There’s a sudden noise- Shnikt! And suddenly, three claws of shining metal tear out of the back of Logan’s hand. They are strong and sharp, beautiful blades. E is fascinated. He pulls the claws towards him, with his power, and stares, intently at the strange metal. Logan stumbles, cursing as he tries not to step on Charles.  


“Sorry.” And he drops the claws, and ducks his head, tucking in his chin, in case Logan decides to hit him. He has no electrical stick with him, so it would be a fist, and that’s usually not too bad-

 _-No one is hitting anyone with anything!-_ snaps Charles in his head, and E flinches. 

Logan steps closer, standing behind the Professor.  


“ _I_ might.” Logan growls. “Not you, bub.” he adds as E moves backwards again, trying to open up the space between them. 

Charles holds out his hands to E. He smiles, warm and gentle.  


_-You are not alone, my friend-_. Charles says, quietly, into his mind. 

E believes him. E has always been alone. Being alone has been safer. But now E can feel how much he means it, when Charles speaks in his head. It steals E’s breath away, the strength of Charles’s intentions. He trembles, faintly. Charles means this a lot. 

E isn’t sure what drives him to place his hands into Charles’ outspread ones. Without his hands, E finds it harder to use metal, finds it harder to escape. His hands are precious to him; they are part of him. 

E offers them up to Charles, anyway.

Charles folds his fingers around E’s hands. He is gentle, as if he were holding something precious and fragile. The professor’s hands are as warm as his blue eyes. He breathes in, sharply. E is not sure why. He makes a questioning noise, coming as near to querying the other man as he dares get. 

Charles reaches out with his mind, wordlessly touching E’s thoughts, in reply. E gasps, but does not try and pull away. It does not hurt. The other man’s mind is as soft and reassuring as it reaches for E as his hands were. Charles touches E lightly with his fingers and eyes and his mind, trying to reassure, to soothe. He speaks to E’s mind again, repeating himself.

_You are not alone._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan makes a sandwich. Hank makes cookies

“Why is there a man hiding under the bed in the second guestroom?” Raven, asked, curious. She watched Hank measure out more flour, hopefully. He always baked such great stuff when he wanted to avoid his feelings.  


“He don’t like sleeping on beds, ‘parently.” Logan grunted, and kept his gaze fixed on the cooler's interior.  


“Charles at work again?” Raven said, resignedly. Charles took in so many more strays than he ever did paying pupils. He was lucky he was rich.  


“Yep.” Logan grinned at little at the face she pulled. “Don’t you look like that, Miss Blue. He’s _your_ brother.” 

Raven nodded. It wasn't as if she could really complain about this aspect of Charles's nature. The first stray he’d ever taken in had become his sister, after all. 

“And where is Charles?” Raven looked up from weighing the chocolate chips.  


“On top of the bed in the second guestroom.” Hank offered, helpfully. 

Logan carried on assembling his sandwich. Sandwiches were serious business, to his mind.  
“Chattin’ an’ making our new lamb feel more like one of the flock.” He sliced a tomato with one claw, ignoring Hank’s mutters about poor food hygiene with practiced ease.  


“Is he?” said Raven, as she swiped a chip to eat. “One of the flock?” It’s fairly likely, but Charles never restricted his all-embracing optimism and helping hands to just mutants.  


“Yes, if you mean mutant. Metal mover.” He clarified, seeing her questioning look.

Raven hopped up to sit on the counter.  


“Is he the one who’s been hanging around? How did he find him?” 

Raven hadn't been happy when Charles had dropped that bombshell on the staff, along with fim requests- more like orders- to leave their stalker to him. Since Kurt had arrived, she was much more protective of the children than before. That had not come as a surprise. 

Hank frowned as he calculated the amount of sugar he needed. The amount surprised him. This set of cookies are just a quick batch of raisin chocolate chip. The kids got to his stash again, today. Sometimes, living in the school wass like living with locusts. Smart locusts, which live on cookies. Fortunately Hank loved the chemistry- the science- of baking. And little Kurt likes them, and so does little Kurt’s mother.

“Yep. He fell out of a tree. Broke his leg.” Logan says. He took a bite of the sandwich. 

Hank nodded, absently. He’d set the leg and helped the man build his own crutches for use when his cast had dried. That had been amazing to see, even if E had been trying to hide what he was doing.  


“Any more details?” Raven pressed, pointedly. She handed Hank the chocolate chips and started weighing the raisins. Hank had promised her cookies of her own for this help. Not that Raven ever needed bribing to behave… anymore, but Kurt loves cookies, and Raven’s not above bribing her small son to behave, where necessary.

“He’s the dude Prof’s been tryin’ to tempt inside for a while. The terrible trio saw him, outside. Called the Prof in when he fell outta the whiteoak.” Logan’s sandwich was nearly perfect. He looked for the _good_ potato chips, to go on the side. He’d already located the beer, before he’d even started the sandwich. Can’t eat sandwiches dry, after all.  


“What’s his name?” Raven ate three raisins, chewing them slowly. Hank fired up the mixer, and no one said anything till the noise levels returned to normal. 

“E” Logan grunted, at last, reluctantly. He’s not calling anyone a test subject. Not ever.  


“Just E?” Raven said, slowly. Most of the people- mutants or not- that Charles took in at least had actual names.  


“Yep.” Logan's tone was curt.  


“Where’s he from, Alphabet City?” Raven ignroed the warning tone in Logan's voice. She dropped the raisins into the batch of cookie dough, and stole a taste. Hank growled at her. She tilted her chin up and winked. Hank flushed.

“He said he escaped, from some lab.” 

Raven cocked her head at Logan.  


“You believe him?” Her eyes flashed yellow-gold.  


“Charlie’s hard to lie to.” Logan reminded her. 

Shel nodded as rueful memories of trying to do just that surfaced.

“And take a look at his left arm, sometime.” Logan took a deep breath. “His arm has a fuckin’ bar code tattooed on it. Present from the labs that had him.” 

And will they ever regret it, when Logan finds them. Logan knew what it was like, to be on the wrong side of the laboratory bench. He hated the thought of anyone else having to endure it. 

Hank squeezed his shoulder, quickly. Logan flashed him a tired grin.  


“How long?” Raven’s voice was soft. Logan shook his head.

“He doesn’t remember being anywhere else.” He gritted out. 

And E was a well grown man, maybe older than the Prof, so that had meant they’d maybe started when he was a kid.  


“Oh God. He’s at least my age.” Raven breathed, equally horrified.  


“You said it.” Logan grunted. 

Hank started dropping cookie dough on baking sheets. He didn’t want to talk about his new patient.  


“Are the children safe?” Raven tilted her head. “Actually, are we safe?” Her voice was wry. 

Hank slid the trays into the oven, and started the timer.

“He seemed quite harmless to me.” Hank said, slowly. “Once I got to know him.” He glanced at Logan.  


“But you’re not gonna make him think he’s being experimented on by a mean scientist, Beast. What with the blue fuzzies, and all.”

Hank nodded. It’s true One of the few useful things about his looks were the reassurance mutants could draw from them. He was one of them.  


“E’s frightened by scientists? Or just people in general?” Raven asked.  


“Both. Apparently people haven’t been a real good experience for him.” Logan snarked, bitterly. “We’re gonna have to take it real slow.” 

Hank nodded, slow and sad. The man hadn't been anxious, when Hank had come to treat him, he’d been _terrified_. He’d gazed at Hank dully, unresponsive in his fear, until Hank had taken off his white lab coat, revealing the full glory of his blue fur and inhuman features. E had relaxed so completely, after that, Hank would have suspected tranquilizers, if he hadn't spotted Charles’s shadow beyond the door. The Professor had stayed with them all the way through the nasty business of resetting the bone and casting the limb.

Between the mental hand holding, and the absence of white coat, they’d got along fine, at least till they’d tried to get E into bed. He’d frozen, completely, again, and when Hank let go of him, he’d scrabbled under the bed, and refused to come out. In the end, Hank had pushed a comforter under the bed and left Charles to it.  


“Charles says we’re all safe.” Hank offere, hopefully. He thought a moment. “I’d be inclined to trust him on this one. He was frightened, when we saw him, but he didn’t try and hurt any of us. “  


“Not even Alex, and that mouthy brat’s annoying.”  


“Logan!” Hank snapped.  


“You know he can be.” Raven soothed Hank’s ruffled fur with one hand, absently. The sweet smell of baking cookies began to steal through the air. 

Logan breathed, quietly, willing himself to calm down. E had come, by luck or chance or coincidence, to one of the best places for runaway mutants, on the planet. Xavier’s School for the Gifted. No one will take him back to the labs he ran from. He’ll be protected here. Safe. In time, E will come to now that, too.

The timer for the cookies buzzed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E talks with Charles. Charles falls out of bed. E remembers something important, with Charles' help.

E opens his eyes. The Professor- Charles, his name is- has stopped talking. Finally. He talked so much, while the fuzzy blue man was helping E get his leg straight. There’s a cast on it now, but he said E wouldn’t need to wear it for long. Then he put dressings all over E’s feet, and helped him wash. In warm water. 

The blue man said his name was Hank. He put his arm in the bath and showed E he couldn’t drown in it. It also showed E that the water wasn’t drugged or mixed with anything bad, but E hadn’t said about that. He didn’t want to give them ideas. Not that they seem interested in tests, but E has been wrong about people before. 

Charles is snoring faintly, as he lies in the bed E is huddled under. It’s a nice noise. 

E doesn’t frighten Charles. He trusts him not to hurt anyone. Or, more likely, he is certain he can stop E from hurting anyone, if he tries. That’s good. E doesn’t want to hurt anyone like he’s been hurt. And if anyone comes in, they’ll be spotted by Charles before they get a chance to see E’s feet, poking out under the end of the bed. He is wearing socks, now. Hank, the blue man, gave him a pair. 

Charles might even be able to hear people just thinking about coming in, and warn E. 

Charles frightens E. E doesn't understand him. He has never met anyone like him before. Not even the janitor was like this. He is so happy and full of energy, talking and talking till E’s head rings, and he can’t follow what he’s saying. And he seems quite careless. He knows E controls metal. But he hasn’t removed any of it from the house- he’s even sleeping on a bed full of metal! 

He doesn't seem to now how to protect himself E shifts the blanket he’s got, wrapping it around himself more firmly. It’s soft and warm, like a bag full of feathers. Charles doesn’t know how to protect himself at all. E could do anything to him. He’s asleep. On a bed. Above him.  


_-Or, just possibly, I trust you-_ , Charles remarks, quietly, inside his head.

_-?!-_   


E startles, and bangs his skull on the bottom of the bed. 

There is a rustling noise, and Charles’ face appears, upside down, in the gap at the bottom of the bed. He looks funny. E smiles, and is rewarded by an upside down smile in response.  


“Are you all right?” 

E nods. He is. His wounds have been treated. He’s warm. He’s clean. They even gave him food. The blue man was gentler than any medic or tech E has ever met. He almost didn’t hurt E at all. And he didn't seem to want to hurt E, either. Another new kind of person.  


“How about your leg?” Charles squints, apparently attempting to look at the offending limb upside down. It’s also fine, neatly covered with the blue mans’ cast.  


“Aches. Bit.” Actually, it aches a lot, but E isn’t going to say so.

“Mm, yes, I would think so.” Charles sounds sympathetic. Then he adds, silently: _-Would you like something for the pain?-_ A picture of round white pills pops into E’s head.

Now Charles can put pictures into his head, as well as words.  


“Drugs?” E croaks, aloud, just to be sure. 

He shakes his head. No, he doesn’t want pills or the needle. Drugs are for tests. E knows. They make you sick, or sleep, or bleed, or dizzy, or strange or-  


“No, not tests. Nothing that will hurt you.” Charles says, firmly. How can he be so sure?  


_-I promise!-_ Charles says, in E’s head, fiercely. 

E blinks. Charles’ face is getting very red. Probably it’s because he’s still upside down.  


“You heard me?” _You were listening in my head?-_  


“Yes, that’s part of my gift. I can hear and talk to people. In their heads and mine” 

Gift? E doesn’t understand. Gifts happen when the cold weather is here, and sometimes other times. They’re not for E. They’re things, wrapped in paper, that techs get, or scientists. E doesn’t get gifts.  


“Like yours, with metal.” Charles explains. Suddenly, E realises what Charles is talking about.  


“No.” he says, harshly. “Not.” He tries not to start shaking. Just thinking about it is hard.  


“No?” echoes Charles, blankly. He looks puzzled, now, as well as bright red.  


“ _Not_. Same.” It isn’t the same thing, it shouldn’t be. Ever. E’s metal… control was what made him a Test Subject. That’s what Sir had said Charles’ gift, Logan’s gift, were nothing like that. Could be nothing like that. E gasps in air. They shouldn’t have to be test subjects. No one ever should take them away, away to the labs and-

Charles slides off the bed with a thump.

  

Charles groans. Falling off the bed had not been a good move. His legs are protesting, vigorously. His back has already registered it’s disapproval of where he spent last night. The second guestroom bed lacked the medical grade support he needed these days. He rolls his head sideways to meet E’s frightened grey green eyes. 

The man looks like some skinny lemur, tucked into the shadowy depths under the bed; all bones and brilliant eyes behind his duvet and his scraggy beard. Charles isn’t sure what the man has against beds. It’s something more than inexperience or fear of sleeping somewhere new. 

He had broadcast such a choking weight of resigned dislike and misery, looking at the bed, Charles had felt unable to persuade him even to try to sit on it. Under the bed had been just fine; which was odd, but perhaps E had felt the need to hide even inside his own room.

“Hurt?” E says, frantic. He slides out from under the bed, awkwardly, and bends over Charles, huffing anxiously. 

Charles smiles reassuringly. It's only a little strained.  


“No, I’m not hurt. Just not thinking about balance I suppose. Could you- “ He holds out his arms. Getting up from the prone position is pretty impossible for Charles right now.  
E braces his broken leg and hauls him off the floor gently enough and together they make it to the bed. Charles stays sitting on the edge, and lets E step away to sit in the corner of the room with his back to the wall.  


“I’d like to ask you some questions.” E stiffens, but gives a wary nod. Charles tries his charming smile “And then, perhaps breakfast?”

“Food?” E looks briefly excited, before abruptly wiping his expression clean.  


“Yes.” Something in Charles’s heart twists. 

E nods, abruptly. “Ok. Good.”  


“Thank you. You don’t have to answer any of them, I just-“ Charles begins. 

E interrupts, impatient. “Ask.”  


“Oh. Well, then. Do you know how old you are?”  


“Old?” E isn’t old. Old is white hair or no hair and moving very slowly. 

Charles tries again.

“Do you know what age you are? Your date of birth?” 

E shakes his head. He has no idea.  


“How long were you in that lab?” Charles persists, gently. 

E thinks.  


“This one,” oh God, he’s been in more than one lab, Charles, realises, horrified-. “cold when I came. Then warm, then cold. Now warm again.”  


“Warm?” Charles is puzzled and then he realises. “Oh, summer.”  


“Yes! Summer.” E remembers that word. Where from? No one used it in his hearing. That he can recall.  


“So. Probably two and half years, at least” Charles murmurs to himself.  


“Lab before, underground. Couldn’t tell warm or cold. Long, long time.” Charles feels sick.

“Before that-” E starts, and then breaks off. “Missing.”

Charles feels puzzled. Who or what was missing? E himself?  


“Missing?” he asks aloud.  


“Gone. Don’t know.” E looks frustrated. It’s an improvement on the terror.  


“E. You know I can talk to you in your head, and hear you in mine?” Charles begins, carefully. E nods. “I can do more than that. I can… with your permission,” Charles continues, very carefully. Many people find this aspect of his telepathy terrifying. He doesn’t want to frighten E off.  
“If you say I can,” he continues, gently, “I can look inside your memory. See what you don’t remember.”  


“See what’s gone?” E looks oddly hopeful.  


“Yes. But only if you say I can.” Charles says, and waits.

“If say no?” E looked at the door to the bedroom, apparently casually. It’s not locked.  


“Then I won’t look.” Charles says, firmly. He takes a deep breath.  


“Just that?” E asks, suspiciously. 

Charles wonders how many people must have lied to him in the past.  
“Just like that, E. It’s your head. What’s in there belongs to you.” 

E stares at him. “I would never deliberately look.” Charles begins to say more, but E interrupts.  


“Pain?”  


“Not at all.” He keeps his gaze steady. “I promise.” E stares at him searchingly, for almost a minute and then, finally, he nods. Such trust, from someone who’s been so hurt. Charles blinks, and tries to stay calm and collected.

“Can you sit next to me, please.” He pats the bed, next to him. E gazes at him, reluctance clear in every part of his body. “It will make things easier.”  


Slowly E makes his way over to sit next to Charles. Moving equally slowly, Charles brings his right hand up to touch E on the temple. He touches his own head with his left. Delicately, like a cat stalking, he moves into E’s mind, searching, searching. E lets him. 

Charles feels the other man’s sense of wonder expanding, beginning to burn out some of the fear, and it’s almost intoxicating. He moves back beyond the broken leg, beyond getting out, beyond the last lab. There are blank spots, and blocks here; tangles of memory coiled inwards and choking on themselves. 

He moves back, and back, and back. Charles never pushes, never forces the memories. He doesn’t want to hurt E more than he has been already. Far away he can sense a dimly glowing bright spot. A sweet memory, alone in all this dark. He reaches out for it, hopefully. It’s only a fragment. A candle flame, a smile. Delicately Charles brushes against it, encouraging it to unfurl and bloom.

 _He lights the candle, squinting carefully. Mutti runs her hand though his hair. Gut, Erik, she tells him. Sehr gut.  
He/Erik smiles at her._

E gasps. He clutches Charles’ arm with both hands. His eyes are wide, like an astonished child’s. He is shaking, but not, the telepath thinks, from fear. Charles reaches out and gently thumbs away E’s tears, then his own. E looks bewildered. Charles thinks he doesn't realise he is crying. 

He finds his speaking voice to say, quietly;  


“I think your name was… is Erik.”  


“Erik?” Says E, thoughtfully. That sounds like a real name, like a real person’s name. Not just a lab rat or a test subject. Could E be a real person? 

Could he be an Erik? 

Charles puts his hand out. E takes it, without hesitation. Charles shakes their hands together, _hello_. People in the lab did that to each other, sometimes. He remembers. 

“Hello, Erik.” Says Charles, gently. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Charles Xavier.” E takes a deep breath, and decides to find out if he’s real. 

“Hello, Charles.” Erik says back. Charles beams.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakages, breakfasts and medicine. Erik is uncertain about all three.

Eventually, Charles persuaded E, no, Erik, to help him stand. Erik. Their new guest has a name. He wasn’t born in a laboratory, at least. He looks better, cleaned up and dressed in a spare tracksuit. That was enough for now, but the man was going to need some proper clothes soon. 

Charles thought about the difficulties clothes shopping would entail, with two people on crutches. Maybe he’d get Raven to be his homeless friend’s able bodied double, and to go shopping for them, if he promised to look after Kurt for her. He carefully ignored his canes as they stumbled across the bedroom towards the door. He felt a strange need to keep Erik as close as possible. 

At the door, however, Erik _looked_ at him, and dragged the sticks to within arm’s reach with his powers. Charles was a little disappointed. Erik picked up the crutch Hank had left him with last night, and gave him a small smile.

“Well. Thank you.” Charles said, slightly dazzled by the smile. “Shall we have breakfast? You must be quite hungry-“  


“Food?” The way the other’s face lit up, eagerly, and then dimmed into wariness and uncertainty made Charles want to hit something. Or someone.

“Just food.” He said, gently. “ No tricks, I promise.”

“No tests?” Erik was apparently not fond of tests, going by his expression. Charles could hardly blame him, given what he'd said about his previous experiences of them.  


“No, no tests.” Charles reassured him. His stomach growled. “Come with me?”

“Coming. Follow you.” Erik stepped back.

Charles made his usual slow and clattery way downstairs to the kitchen. Erik followed him, padding warily and quietly behind him. Charles noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Erik was using the crutch to prod suspiciously at rugs and doors as they pass. He smiled.

The crutch worked well for Erik, until he prodded a table with a vase on it. The vase, an ugly copy of one his father bought before his mother sold it for booze, teetered, and then fell, shattering into many irreparable pieces. Erik fell to his knees, among the sharp porcelain, and scrabbled around, desperately. 

“Sorry. Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Erik mumbled. Charles put a hand on his shoulder. 

Erik flinched away, and then froze.

“It’s all right. It was an accident. I didn’t like it, anyway.” Charles said, gently. 

Erik stared at him, mutely.

“No harm done.” Charles added, encouragingly. 

_-Darwin-_ he sent, at the same time 

_-?-_

_-Dustpan and brush on the second landing, please. Broken vase.-_

_-Sean again?-_ Darwin sighed.

_-Not this time. Our new guest.-_

Erik crouched on all fours amid the wreckage, breathing fast, hands flat on the floor. He seemed to be waiting for something. Charles pressed his lips together, tightly. He wasn’t angry with Erik, but the other man seemed to have the hardest time realising no one here was going to hurt him.

“Never mind, Erik. Erik, the kitchen’s this way,” Charles said, gently, trying to urge the frozen man to his feet before he- oh, too late. Sharp fragments of the vase had already cut Erik’s fingers. He didn’t seem to notice. “Come on, let’s get you looked after,” he said, briskly.

 

He broke it. This house was full of interesting things to look at, and he _broke_ one. E tries hard not to cower. He braces his hands on the floor, preparing himself for standard punishment. It doesn’t happen. He forgets, no one seems to carry shock sticks, outside of the labs. This place is nothing at all like the labs. 

Charles urges him away from his mistake and they continue onwards. It makes him think, furiously, as they climb down stairs and move though rooms and long passages. This is a big house. No one has hit E, no, Erik, or hurt him (other than the blue man and he was helping Erik’s leg.) since they first saw him. If this is a trick or a test, it’s taking an awfully long time. 

An idea hits him then, and he freezes. Is this what real people do, get food and clothes and help when they need it? Could the people here really think he is a person? Someone who’s not a test subject, but a person, like a tech or scientist or the janitor? Believing it straight away would be too risky. He doesn’t believe it. He doesn't dare believe it. It will hurt too much when he’s wrong. 

But… he could play along, for a bit. Test them back. Eat their food, wear their clothes. At some point they’ll make him leave anyway, but he, Erik, could stay till then. Eating and being warm and having clothes and things. 

It’s not possible, E thinks. It might be possible, Erik thinks.

Maybe they’ll even keep him till his leg is better. He’ll move on once they make him go, but if his leg is better, he can keep running and _no one_ will ever catch E, or trap him or trick him or test him again.

“No. No one.” Charles, agrees, slightly breathlessly, out of nowhere.

Erik glances at him, startled.

“Sorry. I catch loud thoughts, sometimes.”

“Oh.” Instantly, Erik resolves to think very quietly from now on. He can’t rely on Charles not minding what's in his head all the time. 

Charles gives him a sweet and slightly strained smile.

“Could you get the door? Ah, thank you.” 

They walk into a big room that is tiled all over, but otherwise is not at all like a lab. There are big windows out into the gardens, and other doors, too. It smells of cooking and food and flowers. Erik likes this room.

“Please, sit down. Get your weight off your leg.” Charles says, brightly, clacking his way towards one of the doors. Erik picks a spot where he can see all the doors, and keep his back to a wall. Before he can sink down on the floor comfortably, Charles speaks again. “Erik, I think you’ll find a chair better for your leg.” His voice sounds odd.

Erik shrugs to himself, and sits on one of the wooden chairs, instead. Charles is right, it is better than the floor, even if he’s more visible, now. The chair is sturdy and strong. It has metal, nails in. That’s good.

Charles gives Erik a small portion of something in a bowl that looked a little like standard rations, the bowls of slop he got every day in the lab if he was good. This stuff is warm, and tastes better, even before he sprinkled the dark brown powdery stuff on it. Charles tells him it’s called oatmeal, or porridge. Erik eats it very slowly, to make it last. He wishes he could have more

Charles is busy at the cooker; stirring something in a pan.

“Do you like orange juice?” Charles asks him, cheerfully.

Erik doesn’t know. _-What is orange juice?-_ He asks, silently.

Charles’s smile falters, slightly, but he gestures to the glass jug on the table that is full of a bright, sunny coloured liquid. “Try it, find out,” he says cheerfully, to Erik. 

Erik gives the juice a long look. It seems harmless.

He reaches for the jug, and is about to drink when Charles says, all too casually;

“It’s better from the glass.”

Erik flushes. Of course, glasses. He’s not used to them for himself, although the techs used them, all the time. In the labs, he drank from the tap with his cupped hand, unless it was drugs. Charles turns back to the stove, and a small smile curls his lips. There are empty glass tumblers set about the table, so Erik snags one, and fills it from the jug. He’s careful not to fill it too full- he doesn’t want to take more than he’s allowed. 

And, if it’s a- no, it won’t be a trick, he thinks, fiercely at himself. Charles _promised_. He pours himself a small amount, and sips. Delicious.

“It’s like sun on water.” He says, astonished into talking before thinking. Greatly daring, Erik pours himself more without first checking he’s allowed.

Charles’s smile widens.

Erik stares at the huge plate Charles set before him. It is full of, of _things_. Foodstuffs, well probably food, that he doesn’t recognise. There is yellow stuff, and bread, and, and… he stares. It all smells good.

“I thought you might enjoy finding out what kind of food you, well, enjoy.” Charles says, brightly. He looks a little anxious. /p >

Erik notices he doesn’t appear to have a plate in front of him. He eyes Charles, then the bare table in front of him, pointedly.

“Oh, well, I-“ Charles flushes.

Erik shoves the plate along the table, until it’s between them.

“Share?” He says, hopefully. Charles looks doubtful.

Charles needs to eat. If you don’t eat you get weak and then- Erik chops that thought off sharply, as soon as he catches sight of Charles’ face, full of wonder, blue eyes fixed on him. Erik twitches a little, under that gaze. It sees _so much_. He spoons up some of the yellow stuff.

“Eggs, that’s scrambled egg.” Charles tells him. He sneaks a bit of bread off the plate. Erik tastes the eggs. Mm. Quite lovely. He looks sternly at Charles until Charles has some too. Then he tries the bread. It's stiff.

“And that’s toast.” 

They go on like that, Erik sampling and Charles following suit. Erik discovers that he likes eggs, waffle, and toast, and bagel, but not the pink thing on it (“Smoked salmon, Erik!” Charles said, brightly. Erik doesn’t trust it.) He likes banana and melon, but not that grainy stuff (“Kedgeree. Mm, no, I’m not fond of it either.)

Now he feels very full. It’s almost more food than he would eat all day, outside. He blinks, slightly sleepily, as Charles smiles at him. He shifts his leg, and isn’t fast enough to hide the wince at the pain. Charles’ smile fades.

“Your leg still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Timidly, Erik nods. His stomach clenches. Maybe he ate too much. He doesn’t want-

_-It’s all right.-_ Charles moves, sliding down the table towards him. Aloud he says “No one is going to force you to take anything.”

Erik leans into Charles, slightly. Their shoulders touch. He’s still so warm. 

He thinks of Charles’s eyes, looking. Of the hands he stretched out towards Erik, before. Of the blue man’s careful treatment. He coughs.

“They just stop hurting? The pills?” He risks the asking.

“Yes. You might feel a little sleepy. That’s all they do” Charles says. He adds _I promise!_ , silently.

Erik gathers his courage. He says, tensely; “All right.”

Charles’s eyebrows go up. Then he fetches a small bottle from his pocket, and opens it. The smell, harsh and medicinal, makes Erik shudder. Charles shakes three pills out onto his palm. Erik looks at Charles’s hand. It's square and small, but strong looking, under the pills. That’s. That’s better. Not in a little plastic cup, or just shoved into his mouth or his veins-

Erik becomes aware that he is shaking, which makes his leg hurt more.

“Hush, oh, don’t.” Charles soothes him, patting at his shoulders.

Erik reaches for the pills. Charles tips two into his hand. Bravely, Erik puts them in his mouth, before he can think about it. Charles puts a glass of water in his hand next. Blindly, Erik gulps at it. The glass is taken out of his hand, and he folds forwards, in dreadful anticipation. It’s not just the pills. It’s the promises.

There is so little of him left unbroken. Charles promised and Erik trusted him, and Erik knows if Charles lied, or played a trick on him, with those pills, he couldn’t endure it. Erik waits, rigid with tension, and nothing happens. Charles is silent.

Time passes.

Erik becomes aware that the pain in his broken leg has changed. It feels… further away. Less. He also becomes aware that Charles is rubbing his back, gently, with one hand. It’s… nice. Warm.

Erik heaves out a huge breath, releasing fear and tension, and turns his head so he can smile at Charles without straightening up. The hand on his back falters, slightly, and then returns to its soothing circles. Erik’s eyes flutter slightly, before he blinks them open again. The pills have taken the hurting away, and nothing else. Just like Charles said. 

He should have trusted Charles.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik tries out tea, and coffee, and meets a toddler.

Erik is not sure about tea. Or coffee. Hot drinks seem unnatural, somehow. Coffee is too bitter and dark. Tea is odd, astringent and not very strong tasting.  
“Well, then, how about this?” Charles pops one final cup on the table. Erik wrinkles his nose, doubtfully. Steam is rising from the cup, another hot drink. It’s browner than coffee. Charles has put little white things in it. It smells like - smells- He takes a sip.

Oh. That’s _good._

Charles laughs at the blissful expression on Erik’s face. The other man’s eyes snap open and Erik looks at him, cautiously. Charles sends him a warm pulse of friendly amusement, and a quick glimpse of Erik’s expression. Erik looks startled.  
 _-Is that me?-_ He thinks at Charles, wonderingly. Charles feels touched. Erik is much more verbal in his head. Charles isn’t sure if that means he’s met telepaths before, and knows how to talk to them, or if it means he hasn’t, and therefore isn’t scared of talking like that.  
 _-Yes-_ . Charles says, simply, in reply.  
 _\- That’s what I look like, to you?-_ Erik flushes, at little, and sips at his hot chocolate again.  
 _-Yes.-_ Charles says again.  
 _-Oh.-_ Erik does not say more, and Charles doesn’t want to pry, so he lets it lie, as he has a quick conversation with his sister. Kurt's awake and restless, too.

Erik feels a little fuzzy, in his leg and his head. He doesn’t mind, he feels… safe. Nice, and safe. Maybe it’s the food, and the warmth, or the clothes. He watches Charles talk in his head with someone, face rippling and mouth unmoving. It’s interesting. Abruptly, there is a puff of smoke, and then a very small blue person appears just in front of Charles, squealing. Erik jumps, startled, and almost spills his hot chocolate. Charles snatches the child out of the air, and laughs, ruefully.  
“Erik? This is my nephew, Kurt.” He says.  
“Kurt.” Erik repeats back. The child looks over at his name, and waves a hand at him. Erik waves one back, doubtfully. He wonders what a nephew is.  
“He’s my sister’s son.” Charles clarifies. Erik’s eyes widen. He knows that word. He knows what that means. The boy is part of Charles’ family. So, Charles has a _family_. The people here are _his_ family. 

“Oh.” Erik says, aloud. There is another puff of smoke, and then the child vanishes, to appear seconds later, sitting on Erik’s lap. Erik jerks, startled, and the little blue boy laughs. Charles laughs, too. Erik jumps again, and the little boy waves his hands in the air and says, shrilly  
“Agin!” Erik looks at him, uncertainly. Kurt pats his face with sticky little hands.  
“Don’t know-“  
“He wants you to jog him again.” Charles says, quietly. His eyes are bright with warmth and affection as he looks at Kurt in Erik’s careful grasp. Erik thinks it’s good for Kurt that Charles likes him so much. Carefully, Erik sits Kurt over his good leg, and jerks it upwards. Kurt giggles and grabs at Erik’s supportive arms as he is bounced up and down, up and down. Erik feels his own face move; he is smiling too. Erik’s arms get tired, and his leg aches again, but he doesn’t stop until Charles tells him. Kurt settles into Erik’s lap again, exploring Erik’s sweatshirt with curious fingers. Kurt bamfs away and returns, laughing at Erik’s amazed face as he jumps into the thin man’s arms again.  
“Kurt, do you want breakfast?” Charles says, brightly.  
“Yis!”  
“What do we say?”  
“Pease!” Kurt says, happily. Charles notices Erik, who has relaxed, tense up. Curious. Charles puts the fruit plate on the table in front of the little boy and his tall companion, and nicks a grape. Kurt starts in, chomping away at melon and carrots and so on eagerly. Erik watches him, very carefully. He doesn’t take any of the fruit. He’s still full from the earlier meal, and besides, Charles didn’t say he could. Erik doesn’t want to take anything that he’s not allowed. He wants the people here- Charles' _family_ to be pleased with him. Kurt soon notices Erik’s restraint, and offers him a grape. Erik takes it, and holds it carefully. What does the boy want him to do with it? Kurt watches him, and begins to pout. "You!” he says, loudly. Erik glances at him. Charles shrugs.  
“What?”  
“You, grape.” Erik relaxes. Ah. The child wants his fruit again.  
“It’s here.” He says, and offers it back. This doesn’t appear to make him happy.  
“No, you, _Grape.”_ The little boy insists. _What?_ Thinks Erik. Kurt’s face wrinkles up, and he appears to be very unhappy. Erik isn’t sure what he’s done wrong. Rather desperately, Erik glances at Charles. The telepath smiles at him and says  
“He wants you to eat it.” Obediently, Erik pops the grape in his mouth, chews and swallows. Kurt beams, patting him on the arm in approval. Erik has to fight not to stare at him. The child is not afraid of him. Then Kurt reaches for his nose. Erik moves his head out of the way. _-Why should he be afraid of you?-_ Charles says, in Erik’s head, as he cuts more fruit on a board. Erik doesn’t have an answer for that. Kurt giggles and reaches for his nose again. _-You don’t want to hurt him or see him hurt, do you?-_ Charles continues, silently. Erik shakes his head, eyes wide.  
"No!" He insists. Children are important. Children should not be hurt.  
 _-Neither has anyone Kurt’s ever met.-_ Charles explains. His eyes are deep and dark, a little sad.  
 _-Oh-_. Erik feels a sudden wave of… some enormous feeling, he doesn’t know what it is, but his chest aches. He wants to squeeze Kurt into his arms, hold him safe in the circle of his body. He wants to do the same for Charles, for the blue man, for the boys who found him. His hands tremble slightly as he thinks about it. _Safe._ They should all be safe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik settles in, and watches while others sleep. Charles is strangely charmed.

Erik settled in nicely over the next few days. Charles watched with some satisfaction as having met, and very clearly catalogued, all the adults at the school, Erik relaxed, just a little, his constant vigilance and dread. Erik can play with Kurt, now, without needing the detailed instructions and support he had at first. He hadn’t known what to do with toys at all, and his blank bewilderment at the whole thing had hurt Raven as much as Charles. The pair of them- the tall, skinny man and the giggling blue boy- are very fond of hide-and-seek; Charles is forever falling over them in strange corners of the house, giggling (in Kurt’s case) and smiling (in Erik’s.) 

Erik has no idea how beautiful he looks when he smiles. Particularly since Charles introduced him to the idea of shaving. It was accidental; but after observing Charles shaving a couple of times, Erik’s beard vanished. It helps. He looks a little less wild and starved, now and that can only be a good thing- and at that point, Charles stops himself from thinking any more about Erik’s looks. Charles wanted to find out more about where Erik came from, and how he got away from the dreadful labs, but he bit his tongue, for now. 

Erik is still very skittish, and his dreams are still full of terrors and torments from his past. Charles doesn’t want to scare him off, or hurt him more when Erik is so badly hurt already. Besides, he’s safe here, and they have plenty of time. It pleases Charles, when he thinks of the old pile he grew up in, being a welcome sanctuary to someone. He pictures his mother’s or Kurt’s face if they’d realised what Charles has turned his hard-won inheritance into, has to fight back a grin. Erik avoids the children; apart from the three who found him- and Charles will never not be glad they did, even if Erik broke his leg- they keep details of who Erik is away from them. He lurks, when they’re around, breathes more easily when they’ve gone to their lessons. They’re children, he’s explained. He wants them to be safe. They don’t need more nightmares like the ones Erik has, that shake him awake, too scared to move or cry. Charles soothes his dreams for Erik, as much as he can, but it’s not always easy, or possible. Partly, this is due to Erik’s unusual sleeping habits.

Erik still sleeps under a bed, but no longer the one in the second guest room. It took them all a while to notice, as Erik is so very good at hiding and being quiet, but he actually rotates between them all. Sometimes he sleeps in Hanks’ room- not so often, as apparently Hank sometimes smells like laboratory, and he doesn’t like it. Hank would rather he doesn’t occasionally wake up to discover the underside of his bed has been invaded, but he doesn’t say anything.   
“Honestly?” Hank said. “I’m very glad he doesn’t equate me with the people who hurt him. Sleeping under my bed is nothing; I wouldn’t know he’s there, except that I smelt him.” Logan also smells Erik, apparently, every time, and throws him out or lets him in, depending on his own arcane methods of judgement. Charles doesn’t ask. He’s fairly sure Erik’s never tried it with Raven’s bed, but only because Charles fell over Erik sleeping in a cupboard outside the rooms she and Kurt used. Also because if Raven ever found out there was a man under her bed, even one like Erik, he wouldn’t stay under the bed for long, one way or the other. He hadn’t asked a question then, simply led Erik to his own room. Erik had waited until Charles was in the bed before grabbing his blanket and sliding underneath.

Erik split a few nights between the boys’ rooms, at least until Sean trod on his arm one night, and screamed the walls down- literally. After that Charles had to ask him to ask before he slept under somebody’s bed. And why he was doing it in the first place. Erik had looked away, and simply mumbled that’d he’d be good, he would, and that he was sorry.  
“I- we’re not angry with you, Erik.” Charles had said, gently. Erik had folded up further, squeezing himself into the corner more tightly. “Just… ask, from now on. Please.” He’d tried a wry smile. “I- you can be a bit of a shock, if no one knows you’re there.” Erik had huffed to himself. Charles had had to hide a smile. Erik was indignant about something.

“That’s why.” He said, rapidly.  
“Why?” Charles said, gently. Erik blinked, swallowed and then said, mumbling to his feet; not looking Charles in the eye.  
“You… you should be safe. All of you. And you can’t, don’t see.”  
“See what?” Charles said, intrigued.  
“Things.” Erik said, vaguely. He smiled, and it looked very like a smirk.“Didn’t see me, outside, and I was there for days and days and days. Before. Might miss, miss others. Not safe.” Charles decided not to tell him that he, Charles had sensed Erik weeks before they were finally able to get him to trust them a little.  
“We should be safe?” Charles said, carefully. Erik nodded.  
“No one should take away.” He said fiercely. “Here, all good. You said, gifted and, and like me. Was taken away before. So.” 

Charles blinked back a sudden sting of tears.  
“You’re trying to make sure no one takes us away?” Erik nodded and shivered.  
“Took _me_ away. Sir did. Kept me. For being special. _Sir’s Test Subject._ ” He spat the last words out, bitterly. Then he stared at Charles, and said, fierce as any hawk   
“Not you. Not you, too. Keep safe. So I watch. From under.” Charles had to move then, out of his chair, and slide down to sit on the floor by Erik’s side. It took him some time; what with his legs and the crutches and all, but Charles was glad of that. It gave Erik time to adjust to someone near him. Anyone who wasn’t little Kurt risked Erik flailing away from them or hitting out if they moved too near him too quickly,

Erik glanced at him, but didn’t tense or move away. Progress, Charles hoped.  
“It’s very kind of you.” Charles said, warmly. “Protecting us.” Erik blinked, briefly. Then, very carefully, he shuffled up a little closer to Charles. Close enough to touch. He sighed. Charles breathed out, carefully.  
“not kind.” Erik muttered, hunching his bony shoulders.”Not kind. Just me.”  
“Very. Kind.” Charles insisted. Erik smiled, a little, and fiddled with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Charles saw the ragged state of it and frowned, a little.  
“We really need to get you some more clothes.” Erik looked blank.

Charles smiled. He put his hand on the frayed part of the cuff.   
“It’s getting a bit worn, here, see?” Erik twitched. “And you must be getting tired of just wearing grey sweatsuits. Would you like more clothes?” Charles said, thoughtfully. “I wonder if you’d like a suit?” It’d have to be a tailor made one, though- Erik was far too lean and tall to fit any old mass produced shop bought thing.  
“This is warm.” Erik said, suddenly wary. “Like warm. And soft.”  
“How would you like to leave the estate, for a bit?” Erik froze. Charles said “See what other people are wearing, maybe?” Erik’s hands began to shake.

“No.” Erik said, softly. “Don’t want.” He swallowed, hard. “Don’t want to leave here. Please?” he said, a painfully hopeless note entering the entreaty. Charles blinked, and then cursed himself. Of course Erik would still be feeling uncertain of his place here.  
“Oh, no, no, not like that, Erik.” He said, rapidly, taking Erik’s hand in his. “You’re staying here as long as you want.” Erik stiffened, slightly, but turned his hand palm upwards, allowing Charles fingers to twine around his.  
“Please?” Erik said. A wave of wistful longing rose from him. Charles blinked again, and hastily re-shored his telepathic shields.  
“As long as you want.” Charles said, firmly. Erik looked dubious. “This is my house, and I get to share it with whoever I want.” Charles said, again.  
“Oh.” Erik said, softly. “Oh.” His hand tightened around Erik’s.

“Now, to the case in point, I don’t think you have enough clothes.” Erik shrugged again. Charles grinned. “You’re sure you don’t want to go outside, even just to get some clothes?” Erik shook his head. “Even if you know you’re coming back?” Erik nodded again.  
“Like these. Good clothes.”  
“Soft and warm, yes, you said. But I think we can do better, for you.” Charles said, briskly. “I’ll just have to ask Raven to show you her tricks. You don’t have to leave at all- she can get everything for you.” It’d be funny, seeing Erik’s reaction to Raven shifting into him, Charles hoped. He’d seen her blue, but not, oddly enough, shifted, at least, Charles didn’t think he had. And, even as someone else, Raven loved shopping. Especially if it was with her brother’s money. Yes, Charles thought, as he smiled at Erik again, this was the perfect compromise.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik likes the library. So does Charles. Erik also likes Charles.

Quietly, Erik slipped into the books room. It was late, and only one light was still on. Erik drifted up to it, and stopped, just outside the circle of illumination. The strong clear light illuminated a desk, covered with papers and books, and half empty teacups. And a familiar dark head. Charles sat, slumped in his wheelchair, asleep with his head on the desk. Erik cocked his head, anxious, but he calmed as he listed to Charles’ slow, regular breathing. Just sleep. Nothing bad had happened to his sandwich man. He had just fallen asleep at the desk. That was good. 

Erik liked the books place at the mansion. There were lots of them; in a room where the shelves went up past his head, all the way to the ceiling. There were metal ladders and railings and balconies with more books. The chairs and couches were sturdy, and big enough to sleep in, not that Erik did that much there. The books were there, and the lights didn’t get turned off. There were large windows that anyone could escape through, and the book place- the library- Charles said it was called was on the ground floor. So it was quite safe to take a book or three and curl up by the warm metal spots (Radiators, Erik, they’re called radiators Charles said.) in a corner. If he stayed there too long, Charles or Hank or one of the boys would come along and drag him out for food or sleep. Erik liked it when it was Charles who found him, because he usually brought the food with him, and then they would both read and eat in the library together.

Charles didn’t say why, if lots of the books told the truth, the place was called a library. Erik was used to lies, although no one had lied to him at the mansion (that he knew of) yet. Apart from some of the things Banshee liked to say, but those werent real lies, like a tech saying "This won't hurt" or "It'll only take a minute" Just exaggerations and stories, a bit like the ones in the books. He liked the stories in the books. Most of them used too many words Erik did not know, or had too many science words in them. Erik didn’t like science words; they reminded him of the labs and the techs in them, talking over his head during Tests. But some if the books were easier, and some had pictures. Sometimes some of the children would read them with him, which was good. It meant he could learn more reading and keep them safe, at the same time. Hank had said, the more he read, the faster he would get, and Erik hoped that was true. There were so many books in the library, he’d never get through them all before he had to leave, unless he could read fast as Charles, or faster.

Charles had written down a lot of things. Erik squinted at the ink pages. Maybe he ought to learn to write, too. He bet he’d be able to do it without getting ink all over his face, like Charles had. Erik bent closer, peering at the inky smudges, interestedly. He recoiled as Charles shifted in his sleep, frowning. Was he having bad dreams? Erik had those- Charles said they were nightmares- and had done for a long time. Erik didn’t have the nightmares when he was protecting people in the mansion, which was another reason he liked it. Charles protected everyone, lots. Even in Erik’s dreams, he was there, smoothing them down, or pulling Erik out of them, a lot of the time. Charles shifted again, restlessly, and his forehead creased. Erik looked at him, and wondered how long he’d been there. If Charles sat for too long he started to hurt. That was not good. Charles’ legs hurt too often. Charles shouldn’t have bad sleep, ever. Erik didn’t like it. Maybe he should move Charles, and then he’d be more comfortable? But maybe Charles didn’t like being touched when he was asleep? Erik didn’t. And he didn’t want to wake Charles, either. Anxiously, Erik shuffled from foot to foot, before coming to a decision. 

“Charles.” He said, very quietly. Perhaps if he woke Charles just a little bit…  
Charles didn’t move.  
“Charles. Legs will hurt.” Erik said, softly, into Charles’ ear. Charles groaned a little.  
"What?” He opened one blue eye. Erik shuffled from foot to foot again, awkwardly.  
“Charles. Should sleep in bed. Legs will hurt.” He blurted. Charles’ other eye opened.  
“Did I fall asleep?” He tried to straighten up, and stopped, hissing in pain, as his back protested. “Ow.”  
 _“Bed.”_ Erik said, firmly.   
“This is so very forward of you, Erik.” Charles said, smiling. Erik looked at him, stolidly.  
“Don’t understand. Go to bed. Legs will hurt.”  
“Legs hurt right now, actually.” Charles admitted, reluctantly. “Not sure I could make it to my bed.” Erik frowned, ferociously displeased.  
“Bed.” He insisted. “Take you.” Charles blinked.

“That’s very kind of you, Erik. But I need the wheelchair by the bed and-”   
Erik huffed. Gently, he gathered his metal sense up, and used it to lift the chair. Charles felt his jaw drop. He knew Erik’s gift was with metal, but he had not wanted to press Erik into using it; as he didn’t want to remind the man of the labs or his captivity. Charles realised he had no idea of the very real power in Erik’s gift, or his dexterity with it, until now, when his wheelchair rose in the air and began gently bearing him off. Erik turned out the light and followed. Erik was sweating a little, by the time they stood outside Charles’ bedroom. The door swung wide- so he could do separate things at once. Charles found himself wondering how the labs had ever managed to keep Erik captive for so long. The man’s gift was incredible. He looked forwards to the time when they’d be able to learn more about it together. Erik followed the floating wheelchair in and shut the door. Charles found the chair touching the floor right by his bed, and braced himself for the inevitable painful struggling between chair and bed.

“Wait.” Erik said, coming forwards. “I help.” He bent over Charles in the chair, and Charles wrapped his arms around Erik’s neck. Erik slid his hands under Charles’s thighs, and gently, lifted him onto his bed.  
“How did you-“ Charles said, surprised out of his manners, for once.  
“Watched.” Erik said, off hand. He began to unlace Charles’ left shoe. “Hank does that. Raven does that.” He gave Charles a sly glance as he started on his right shoe. “I can, too.”  
“So I -very gratefully- see” Charles said, smiling. Erik grinned back, his smile, as ever, transforming his face form the forbidding to the beautiful. Then he threw both the shoes across the room.  
“Belt.” He said, cryptically.

“What?” Charles said, sleepy and puzzled.  
“Metal buckle.” Erik said, patiently. “Will dig into. Belt, give me.” Wordlessly, Charles unfastened his belt and began to pull down his trousers. He hissed in pain, again. Erik moved forwards to help, lifting Charles and stripping him out of his trousers. Charles gazed at Erik’s head, so close as he helped him. Then he took off his shirt, scrabbling for the elderly T-shirt that lived under his pillow. Even that, Erik had to help him into, which he did, gently.   
Erik pulled back the covers on the bed, and Charles rolled over into it with a grateful groan. Then Erik pulled the blankets up over Charles’ shoulders. Charles shivered slightly, as the chill of the sheets leached his body warmth.  
“Cold?” Erik said, concerned. Charles woke up enough to smile reassuringly  
“I’ll warm up soon, don’t you worry, Erik. Now, you should go to bed, too.”   
Erik shuffled his feet. He didn’t want to leave Charles alone like this. Not when his legs already hurt. Charles needed looking after.

Charles raised the cover on the bed, invitingly. He was used to Erik and his preference for sleeping in rooms that had other people in them by now.  
“Can... Can stay?” Erik said, hopefully. “Might need help in night?” Charles bit his lip. It really was too cold to let the man keep sleeping on the floor.  
“Yes.” The closer Erik was, the easier it would be to calm him if his dreams took a bad turn. If Erik was actually in the bed with him, Charles might even be able to do it without waking up. “Take your shoes off, first, please.” Erik chuckled.  
“Not wearing.” Then, slowly, cautiously, he slid into bed next to Charles. Charles turned out the light. Erik blinked at the ceiling. He was lying in a bed, in the dark, a familiar place for bad things to happen. It wasn’t too bad, with Charles breathing in his ear. He remembered something little Kurt had taught him.

“Hug?” he said, hopefully. Charles grinned, and prepared to turn over.  
“Of course.” He said, exactly as he would say to the little boy who’d taught Erik this one.  
Before Charles could turn over, strong skinny arms wound around him tight and gentle. Charles smiled to himself.   
“Good night, Erik.” He said, aloud. Erik huffed into his ear, and said  
“Good night, Charles.” in a mumble.

Sleep came quickly for both of them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has a perfectly normal physical reaction, and then a slightly less normal emotional over reaction to that.
> 
> Logan steps in to play therapist. God help us all.
> 
> Ah, the trigger warnings for this chapter are in the notes at the end. Note also that the tags for the whole story have been updated, too.

Erik woke, sharply alert, and puzzled by the lack of nightmares. He was in a bed, an actual bed, covered by sheets and blankets, which usually he hated. Erik knew he hadn’t spent the night under anyone’s bed, so he had not been protecting anyone, so the bad dreams should have come. But he had slept just fine. Next to him, in the bed, Charles muttered, low in his throat, and moved closer, in his sleep. Erik relaxed a little. Charles was here. And here was the mansion. Charles had needed help last night, and Erik had been able to lift him upstairs without hurting him. That was good. Erik didn’t want to hurt anyone like he’d been hurt, and he especially didn’t want to hurt Charles. Erik’s sandwich man was… Well. Erik just didn’t want him to be hurting at all. 

Not ever.

Erik started to stretch, and stopped as Charles stirred. He lay very still and tried to think very small. Charles needed his sleep. Charles was too often busy, too often tired and hurting. The mansion relied on him; he carried it all. He kept Erik safe, gave him somewhere to live, gave him food and clothes and warmth and books and hope. Erik stared at Charles’ sleeping face, marked with lines from his pillows, and tried to feel more quietly. One corner of Charles’ mouth turned up. Good dreams? Erik hoped so. It was nice, even being in a bed, with Charles sleeping and warm next to him. Cautiously, he put out a hand, towards Charles’ face. Then he stopped, leaving his hand hovering in the air over Charles’ face. Erik didn’t quite dare to touch him. Charles might wake up. Erik didn’t want to- He stopped, feeling a familiar, if rare, sensation again. Cautiously, he squinted under the covers at his own body, in the dimness. He knew the feelings, had had them before, but he always wanted to check, with his eyes. Yes. He was hard. It happened, sometimes, more often now he was away from the labs. Erik knew what to do. He looked over at Charles again. No. It would wake him. And- He stopped, fighting down a tremble. Looking at Charles had made him harder. Made him _want_. Erik swallowed, desperately. No. It couldn’t true. He couldn’t be like that. He couldn’t want to hurt Charles. Not like Sir had hurt him, not like some of the techs had hurt him, no… He swallowed down a whimper. 

Charles made a sleepy questioning noise and moved towards Erik. Erik recoiled from him so sharply, he fell out of the bed.   
“Erik?” Charles said in confusion.  
“Ow.” Erik said, trying not to panic. “Fell.” He scrambled up, and began backing away. Charles frowned. Erik felt his heart hammering in his chest. Charles must not know, must not guess. Erik didn't want to be hated. Not by _Charles._  
“Are you alright?” Charles said, and began struggling to sit up. Automatically, Erik moved to help him. Carefully, he slid and arm behind Charles’ back and helped him side the pillows behind for support. Erik’s hardness, which had softened when he fell off the bed, began to return. Erik made a small, frightened noise, and moved away from Charles like a scalded cat.  
“Erik? What’s wrong?” Charles said.  
“Going.” Erik said, retreating rapidly to the door. “Need wood. Logan said.” 

Once through the door, away from Charles’ puzzled eyes, he turned and fled.

 

Logan prowled along the edge of the yard, and sniffed. Erik’s scent rose from the woodshed, loud and clear. That explained the source of the steady thumping, then. Not Charlie’s face though, when the Prof had asked him to find their latest wayward puppy. The Professor had looked terrible, like three bad nights and no painkillers terrible. Which got Logan curious. It wasn’t like Charlie to over react. Logans’ nose told him that Erik had slept in the same room as Charlie last night If Erik had somehow upset Charlie, well. They’d have to have words. If Charlie had somehow managed to hurt himself, over Erik… well.   
“Probably still have to have words, bub.” Logan muttered to himself as he ducked into the woodshed. He stopped, startled. There was something desperate about the way Erik was chopping at the wood. He had one axe in his hands, and was driving away at one log with it. Two other axes were working away by themselves. Logan sighed. He _knew_ letting the kid see Fantasia had been a mistake. At least brooms didn’t have any sharp edges.

“Hey.” He said, quietly. Erik jumped and whirled to face the doorway. His hair- longer now than the fuzz he’d had when they’d brought him in, flopped in his eyes. Erik thrust his hand over his sweating forehead and nodded, reluctantly, at Logan. Logan moved to sit down, and drew an assessing breath in through his nose. Erik _reeked_ to Logan’s sharp senses. A wave of work, shame, fear, and… disgust filled Logan’s nose. Under that, there was something else, a more elusive scent. Logan sighed again. Damn. Now he’d have to _talk._ He flashed an alert to Charlie, letting the telepath know he had found their little lost lamb.  
“Logan.” Erik said, warily.  
“Problem?” Logan said, tilting his head curiously at the great piles of chopped wood. Erik grew tenser, even as he moved to sit, cross legged, by the axe.  
“No?” Erik tried, without much success, to lie. Logan snorted.  
“Try again, bub.” He said, not unkindly. “With the truth, this time. Charlie’s awful worried over you.”

Erik flinched, and stared at the ground, avoiding Logan’s eye.  
“Sorry. Sorry. Didn’t do anything. Won’t.” he mumbled, pressing his big hands together.  
“No one’s saying you _did_ ” Logan pointed out. Erik raised red rimmed eyes and gazed at him, miserably.  
“No. But might.” Erik wrapped his arms around himself, hands squeezed viciously tight on his elbows.   
“Gonna bruise yourself, kid.” Logan said, more gently. It was clear that something was really bothering Erik.  
“Doesn’t matter.” Erik said, dully. “Deserve…” Logan cut him off, sharply  
“Hey. You better not be tryin’ to tell me you deserve to be hurt.” Erik twitched.

“Better. Better this way.” He said to his knees.  
“How is you bein’ hurt, thinking you deserve it, better?” Logan said, incredulous. Erik raised his head, slowly. His eyes were haunted.  
“Better than if hurt someone else.” He said, simply. Logan sighed again, moved closer to Erik, and began to unpeel the kid’s grip on his arms, finger by finger, before he cut off the blood supply permanently.  
“You think that’s gonna be a problem?” Erik nodded.  
“Why? You haven’t so much as said boo to a goose since you came.” Logan grunted, and unlaced another finger.

“Charles.” Erik whispered, finally. Logan ignored the kid’s wet eyes, firmly.  
“You think you hurt Charles? How?”   
“Not yet. But, but this morning, woke up and…” Erik trailed off.  
“You woke up wanting to hurt Charlie?” Logan said. “Why? How?”  
“Hard.” Erik whispered.  
“Tell me anyway. I ain’t gonna-“ Logan said. Erik frowned, and shook his head.  
“Woke up hard. Wanted.” He swallowed, and continued “Wanted him.” He looked at Logan in despair. Abruptly, Logan identified the mysterious under scent. Arousal. Erik had been aroused. 

And had wanted Charlie. Well, that explained a few things. Still-  
“Why would wanting Charlie hurt him?” Logan said, aloud. Erik looked at him, incredulous.  
“It always hurt. Bed hurt. They did it, and now, now, I… I’m like them. I want to.’.”  
“What.” Logan said, reflexively. Surely the kid couldn’t mean…  
“Before. At the, at the labs.” Erik said. “Sir always hurt, when he wanted me. Techs, too.” Logan set his jaw. He needed to be sure he understood this.  
“You... They raped you, too?” Of course they would have done. Along with everything else. Erik looked bewildered.  
“What’s rape?” he blurted out, warily. Logan breathed out, slowly. Words. The kid had a problem with words he didn’t know. So try again. Ask the question another way.

“You said, they hurt you.” Erik nodded. “ In bed?” Erik nodded again. “With their-“ he made a gesture to the appropriate area. Erik nodded for a third time, miserably.  
“And, and, this morning, woke up. Hard. And Charles... Wanted him. Don’t want to be like them.” Very carefully, Logan set his outrage aside. He could do that. For Erik. He could.  
“That’s why you ran off, huh?” Awkwardly, Logan scratched his head, searching for the right words. Words were Charlie’s business.   
“It doesn’t have to hurt.” He said, very gently. “Either… person.” Erik looked sceptical. Logan would take it. Sceptical was better than scared, any day.   
“Look, have you… touched yourself, when you’re alone?” Erik nodded.“Didn’t hurt, did it?” Logan said, reasonably. Erik shook his head.   
“Well then.” Erik looked dubious again.  
“But- Charles-“ he jerked out and then stopped.

“Trust me, kid. You didn’t want to hurt Charlie. You wouldn’t have.” Logan said, firmly. Not least, because, as a telepath, Charles could have had Erik on the floor and convinced he was a five year old girl before Erik had time to do more than think a threatening thought about anyone, but still.  
“No?” Erik said, looking hopeful.  
“No.” Logan said, firmly. “Some people, they enjoy it- not the hurting-“ he added hurriedly. “It’s fun. For both.”  
“Fun?” Erik looked flatly dubious. “But it never…” He trailed off, thinking hard.  
“No? Well, you have to make sure the other person knows what’s going on, and wants, you know, to join in.” Logan said. “Bet that didn’t happen in the labs.” Erik shook his head. “Well then.”

“So… Didn’t want to hurt?” Erik said, hopefully. Logan bit back a swearword.  
“Nope. Just wanted.” He said, more confidently than he felt.   
“Oh.” Erik fell silent again, staring. Logan considered lighting his cigar, and decided against it.  
Charles knocked on his mind, requesting explanations. Logan sent him an image of a rude gesture. This was something Erik and Charlie needed to work out together.  
“You could talk to him, you know.” He offered, to Erik and to his invisible eavesdropper. “It’s good to talk, I hear.” He bared his teeth in a grin. Charles sputtered, mentally. Erik looked less despairing.

“We’ve got plenty of firewood now.” Logan said to Erik. “Thanks to you. Go wash up.” Erik stumbled to his feet.  
“Will. Put away tools first.”  
“I’ll do that.” Logan said. “You look beat, kid. Go wash, and eat something.” Erik shuffled out of the woodshed, slowly. Logan picked up the first axe. Abruptly, Erik stuck his head back into the room.  
“Logan.” He said, quickly. “Thank you.” And then he was gone. Logan smiled.  
 _Well, Charles._ He thought. _Reckon this one might be a challenge, even for you._ He looked forwards to watching it.

In the mean time, he was just gonna let some of his outrage with Erik’s “Sir” and his little followers out on the firewood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Rape, non con, in the past. If you don;t want to read about it (and it's not graphic) have a summary below. 
> 
> So. In this chapter, Erik responds to years of previous trauma by confusing his newly emerging sexual desire with the desire to hurt someone else, namely Charles. This horrifies him.   
> Logan and Erik have a pretty frank discussion, if somewhat vague on words, about the difference between sex and rape. Because Erik has never had sex, only endured rape. 
> 
> Again, if you feel I could have handled this better or differently, please let me know. My intent is not to upset or trigger anyone with this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik takes a walk, chides a mutant, and makes a terrible discovery.

_BAMF_  
There was a sudden gust of sulphur scented air, and a small blue boy with a tail flashed into the air level with Erik’s face.  
“Unca’ _Riik!”_ Kurt said, happily. Erik smiled, and caught him. The little blue boy was strangely interested in the latest edition to the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. He often popped up unexpectedly when Erik was on his patrols of the house and lands, to the despair of his mother or allotted carers. Erik didn’t mind. Kurt could always bamf off at any moment if danger threatened, teleporting back to his mother, or Charles, and safety. Having him along was therefore not risking him too much. That was probably why no one stopped Kurt from following Erik about so much; that Kurt could keep himself safe. And Erik could help him with that. Hide and seek was a good way of learning all the little crawl spaces and hide holes that a small blue body could fit. Being able to hide was important. Hiding meant staying safe.

If they couldn’t find you, they couldn’t hurt you. Couldn’t take you away. Safety was important to Erik. These people, this place… it was precious to him. He had been hurt, and they fixed him up. They let him stay. They fed him and let him use the great room of books. And they didn’t run Tests, either on him or each other. It was the first place in Erik’s conscious memory where he felt anything like safe. Erik rather liked the feeling. It was nice. And so he worried about it. You never got to keep anything nice in the labs, either the techs took it away from you, or Sir turned up to show you how terrible the apparently nice thing could be. Erik didn’t want to lose the feeling, or the place or people it came from.

Logan, the man with metal in his bones, had understood. Charles had explained to him what Erik was doing, and why. Logan had shaken his hand, even though he had already grunted hello before, saying  
“’Bout time someone else helped me keep an eye on these idjits.” Erik wondered what an idjit was, and why they needed watching. Logan hadn’t explained; he’d been too busy working out when Erik would be able to run and walk on his broken leg. Charles had got one of the pupils at the school was practicing healing on Erik’s leg, so it was fixed soon. He’d been uncertain, until the boy in question had promised not to hurt himself, and said he could have decided not to help, if he wanted. 

Now his leg was fine. Erik was pleased about that. Partly he was looking forwards to being able to run again, even if he didn’t need to. Partly the more his leg got fixed up, the less it hurt, which meant less pills. Although Erik thought the pills in the mansion were different to the drugs in the lab, he still felt frightened every time he had to swallow one. And he had the faint, creeping hope that the more whole he was, maybe, the more Charles might look at him. He liked Charles to look at him. Liked it a lot.

Together, Logan and Erik had worked out a system of patrols and check-ins that meant no part of the grounds was left unexamined. Erik enjoyed it. He wasn’t allowed to do much to earn his keep here- no one would let him work much, and he so badly wanted to repay Charles’s people for everything they had given him. So he would keep them safe, instead. No one would be able to sneak in after Erik, sneak in and take people away-  
Kurt laughed, and bamfed onto Erik’s shoulders. Erik jumped, and Kurt laughed again. Erik thought hard in Charles’s direction.

 _-Erik?-_ Charles’ mind voice was warm and friendly, but a little surprised. Erik rarely reached out mentally.  
 _-Kurt-_ Erik sent, quickly, hoping he wasn’t interrupting anything. _–Found me-_  
 _Ah. I’ll tell Raven._ Charles mind tone was amused. _And no, you weren’t._ Erik smiled, in relief, and Kurt giggled at him.  
“Forwards, Unca ‘rik!” A tiny blue hand pointed, imperiously. Erik shuffled his bony shoulders a little, to make sure Kurt was securely seated, and then he plunged off on his jog. In Erik’s head, Charles felt… approving? Happy about Kurt? Erik was surprised Charles was still listening, his sandwich man was very busy today.

He always had time for Erik, though. Maybe that was why. It was one of the reasons Erik wanted to lick him. Among other things, of course, but he had thought he would enjoy starting with licking. And that Charles might, too. Erik didn’t want to do anything Charles didn’t want, ever. He hadn’t needed his talks with Logan to know _that_. Erik didn’t plan on testing out whether Charles did want, or might enjoy… licking anytime soon. Charles was being funny about… everything, ever since Erik had fallen out his bed slightly on purpose.

_Even though_ Logan had explained to Charles as well as Erik, when he asked, that Erik’s wanting things were alright, and wouldn’t hurt anyone, not even Erik, Charles was not happy. He didn’t hug as much. He kept more distance between them. This made Erik a little bit sad but Charles had said it wasn’t because he was afraid. Which was good. Erik could not bear the idea that he might have been frightening his sandwich man, even accidentally. Still. Charles would get over whatever was worrying him eventually. Logan had said. Erik was patient. Erik didn’t want to rush Charles. He just wairted for him to be ready to want things, and hoped that when he did, he would want Erik. He did think about him quite a lot, though. 

Erik could tell when Charles overheard, because his ears went pink.

Kurt laughed again, pulling Erik back into the moment. Then, abruptly, the world around him vanished. There was nothing but edged cold and the biting dark and Kurt’s tail curled around his arm to keep Erik steady. Wind howled through him; Erik fought down a howl of his own. Just as suddenly as the world had vanished, it re appeared, with a slight popping sensation. Erik bit back a yell, and looked around. The landscape was exactly the same, but Kurt had teleported them roughly three feet forwards, about his limit when he was carrying another living being.  
“Kurt!” Erik said, sternly. “Dangerous. Don’t!” He lifted the boy from his shoulder and looked him in the eye, sternly. Kurt hung his head.

“Charles said not to, yet. Could get hurt.” Kurt bit his lip. Erik pressed the point home, just in case. “Yes?”  
“Yes.” Kurt said, in a tiny voice. “sorry.”  
“Is ok.” Erik said, lifting the child back onto his shoulders. “This time.” Kurt went quiet. Erik let the child get over his sadness in his own time. Like Charles, he did better that way. And he needed to learn control; Charles and Logan and Raven had all told him that teleporting other people was dangerous when he was still so little. Kurt’s father had been a teleporter, and maybe he could have helped, but he wasn’t living in the Mansion. Erik didn’t know why, when other fathers lived with their children a lot, but he didn’t ask. It didn’t feel like an answer he needed to know, and questions were still hard, sometimes. 

Finding how people _got_ to be mothers and fathers had been strange enough. Hank had reassured Erik that _he_ wasn’t going to be a mother, ever - that only women could be mothers-, but still. He’d laughed when he said it. Erik was taking no chances there. He had found a book to tell him all about it. It had a lot of pictures. This had not helped Erik to not think about Charles, for some reason. Charles' ears looked nice pink, though, so Erik didn't feel too bad about it all. They walked on, Erik checking his surrpoundings as Logan had taught him.

“Patrol over. Heading back to kitchen.” he said, finally. “Go ahead, get hot chocolate.” Kurt giggled, leapt in the air, and vanished. _Bamf._ Another puff of sulphurous smoke filled the air. Smiling, Erik turned and began retrace his footsteps. The house wasn’t far. Erik’s steps speeded up as he walked towards the kitchen, and the hot chocolate Kurt would hopefully have persuaded Raven to make. Erik ignored the new car in the drove way as he toed off his muddy shoes, and moved towards the kitchen. Happily, He pushed open the side door into the kitchen and froze, transfixed at the nightmare come to life within. 

Sir was there. The man who stalked Erik through his nightmares was sitting in the kitchen, like he belonged there. Charles. Sitting and sipping tea. Talking cheerfully as if he thought he was safe, with Sir there. Kurt, babbling happily as he _sat on Sir’s lap._ Sir, who was holding Kurt and, and smiling at him, and… Terror and rage consumed Erik. He had to do something, to protect the people, the place he had found. _He had to do something._  
Erik let out an inarticulate howl and charged to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a seasonal cliffhanger! My updates are about to become irregular until the New Year, due to family obligations and travelling. Do not fear, all will be resolved... 
> 
> Probably.
> 
> Have a happy time of year, wherever you are, and whatever ways you have of marking the dance of time.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven holds the cream cakes to ransom, Erik makes a mistake, apologies abound, and then there are group hugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did work at this over Christmas, as well as Triune. I _did_

“So, tell me, big brother- how are things going?” Raven raised her eyebrows, suggestively. Charles went pink.  
“I have absolutely no idea what you might be implying by that.” He said defensively. Raven put her tongue out at him. “None.” Cruelly, she laughed.  
“Hey. Don’t make me withhold cake, there!”  
“I thought I controlled the cake?” Charles said, smiling slightly. “Like Hank controls the cookies?” Raven continued to protest as he brought the tea over to the kitchen table.

“This is not just, Charles! I went into the city, fearless, and without faltering! I dared the crowds at the bakery! I fetched the clothing you asked, for your new man- spill, or no cake for you!” Charles stared at her, pitifully.  
“He’s not my new man!” Charles protested.  
“Pretty sure he wants to be. Logan said something about it.” Raven said, cheerfully.  
“You’d deny your own adoptive brother cake?” His eyes went huge and soulful. Raven put her hands over her eyes, blocking out the puppy dog gaze.  
“Yes! Silence means no cake for you!”

Mournfully, Charles sighed. He poured the tea into two mugs, and handed one to Raven. Silently, she took it and added three lumps of sugar.  
“Nothing. Nothing is happening. Or is going to.”   
“What?” Raven almost screeched. Charles flinched, gesturing at her to be quiet. “He’s not around, is he?” Charles closed his eyes, briefly.  
“No, he’s patrolling. Oh- Kurt’s with him.” Raven snorted. “It makes him feel safe, and you know why he needs it. Kurt will be fine.”

“Yeah, I know why.” She sobered. “I know. If- if you hadn’t taken me in-“  
“Dad adopted you.” Charles reminded her.  
“Yeah, but it was your idea, don’t tell me different. Just… sometimes, I think… that could have been me. Subject R, maybe.” Charles looked horrified. “Not all the time. Just, sometimes. When I look at him. ” She gazed into her tea mug, avoiding Charles’ eye for a moment.  
“I have always felt blessed in having you as my sister, and not just because we could protect each other.” Charles said, solemnly.

Raven had nothing to say to that, so she simply squeezed his hand, tightly, and then put the bag with the cream cakes in it on the table. Charles reached for it, but she smacked his hand away.  
“Explain why nothing is going to happen? You sounded sad, about that, what’s happened?” Charles sighed again.  
“Look.” He said. “Erik has been enormously hurt by just about everyone he’s ever met. He… didn’t even have the _words_ to describe some if it.”  
“What?”

Charles swallowed and looked away. It was hard to explain. Harder still to think about.  
“They raped him so often, and hurt him in so many other ways, the labs, he thought that was all there was to it. Sex, I mean.”   
“That’s terrible.” Raven said. “But Logan said…” Charles didn’t roll his eyes, but he came quite close.  
“Logan has a good heart, my dear, but he’s not exactly Sigmund Freud.” He said, snippily.  
“Thank _god_ ” Raven said, dryly. “Logan said Erik was –“  
“Starting to, um, feel things? For me?” Charles said, fumbling for words desperately.  
“Things?” Raven said, raising an eyebrow. “You are the most inarticulate telepath I know.”

“I’m the _only_ telepath you know, dear.” Charles said, dryly. “To the point. I know Erik is starting to recover, because he has far more strength than any other man I’ve met. I don’t know where it will take him eventually, I just want to see him spread his wings, learn to truly fly.”   
“Pretty, but you’re being evasive, Charles. Again.” Charles drew a deep breath.  
“I know it’s selfish of me.” Charles said, with a small smile. “But… Erik’s interest in me? He’s experimenting with somebody he thinks won’t hurt him, that’s all. Pushing boundaries. Trying to put into practice his new lessons.” Charles shut his eyes, trying to push away his own feelings. It was important not to be selfish, but he didn’t think he could bear it if, after learning about love, or sex,with him, Erik went on to have a relationship with someone else. 

Better not to let anything happen between them. When Erik was better, he could find someone who deserved his love, his trust- that person certainly wasn’t _Charles._  
“I saw him with a how babies are made book the other day. If Erik’s trying to put _that_ into practice with you, he’s going to be very disappointed and confused.” Raven said, before she saw the look of pain on Charles’ face.  
“Hey, come on.” She said gently. “I’m sure Erik cares for you.” Charles gave her a tight smile.  
“I’m just the first person who was ever kind to him, that’s all. We both know better than to confuse that with love.”

Silently, Raven handed him a cream cake. She was about to say more when there was a tiny _bamf_ and her son leapt into her arms, giggling.  
“Mama mama mama!”  
“A stranger!” Charles said, playfully. He reached over the table to tweak his nephew’s tail.  
“That reminds me, Charles, I saw a weird guy when I went picked up Erik’s new clothes.”  
“What kind of weird guy?” Charles sat up. Raven shrugged 

“Well dressed, good looking, but… weird. Staring. The assistant said he’d been around before. I think he tried to follow me, but he lost me soon as I went back to being me.”  
“You shopped for Erik looking like him?” Charles said, sharply.  
“Seemed the easiest way of making sure everything fit.”  
“Did you get a good look at him?” Wordlessly, Raven slipped into the weird stranger’s form. Charles gasped. He knew that face. Knew it from Erik’s nightmares. He began to say something, but he was drowned out by a terrible howling noise.

The kitchen door slammed back on its hinges as Erik hurled himself into the room and straight at Raven. His fists were clenched, and he appeared to be growling. CHarles' eyes went wide as he felt the total wave of aggression coming off the man.  
“Erik, _no_!” Charles shouted. Kurt wailed and Raven snapped back into her blue form. Erik faltered, as he took in Raven's sudden appearance. He was going too fast to stop, even as his eyes widened to see his nightmare disspaear.. He flung up an arm, and yanked himself sideways, sharply. Erik blundered into the table, falling down hard. He stayed sprawled on the floor.  
“Ch-charles.” Erik voice was unsteady. “Sorry. Thought. Kurt. Thought she was Sir. Sorry.” Lying on the floor, he curled into a ball, lacing his hands over his head.

“Oh, honey.” Raven said. “It’s alright Kurt, see? We’re all fine.” She and Charles stared at each other, horrified.   
“Unca ‘riik cryin’” Kurt said. He popped out of his mother’s lap, reappearing next to Erik’s’ head.  
“It’s ok , Uncle Riiik.” The little boy said, patting Erik’s trembling shoulder. “Mama changes. It’s not scary. Not when it’s her.” Erik curled tighter into his ball, whimpering. The waves of self hatred and terror pouring off him made Charles sway sharply.

Raven knelt next to Erik  
“Erik, I’m sorry.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Erik? Can you look at me?” Erik shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.  
“Sorry, sorry sorry.” He whispered, rapidly. “No shocksticks here. I know. Thought was Sir… Holding Kurt.”  
 _Who is “Sir”?_ Raven asked Charles silently.  
 _His main keeper_ the telepath responded as he came to kneel next to Erik too.   
_I see him again, I’m turning into Logan, and killing him._ Raven said. 

Together, brother and sister slid their arms under Erik, embracing him tightly. He kept shaking. Kurt stroked his hair.  
“Erik?” Raven said. “It’s OK. Come on, sweetie, open your eyes. Look at me.” Erik let out a high, frightened noise, but he did look at her, quickly, before his eyes shut again.   
“Everything will be alright, Erik.” Charles said, gently. “No one’s hurt. You’re safe here.” Raven laid her hand on the back of Erik’s neck, pulling him partly upright and tucking his face into her shoulder. Wordlessly, she began crooning, as she did when Kurt woke from a nightmare, rocking him back and forth, gently.

No one else said anything for a moment. Kurt patted Erik’s knee. Charles kept rubbing his back, soothingly. Slowly, Erik’s shivers began to trail off.  
“Sorry.” He said again, mumbling into Raven’s shoulder.  
“What for?” Raven said, gently.  
“Nearly… Nearly hurt you. Sorry. Thought you were Sir.” Erik said, and uncurled, just a little. Raven looked at Charles, who sent her a quick wordless blip of encouragement.  
“I guess I looked like him, huh?” Erik nodded against her shoulder.

“You were worried about Kurt sitting with someone who hurt you.” Charles said. Erik glanced over at Charles, and nodded again.  
“I think I should be the one saying sorry.” Raven said. Erik seemed startled by this.  
“Attacked you.” He pointed out, in case she’d missed it.  
“For Kurt, and Charles, right?” Raven said.  
“Right.” Said Erik. He lifted his head, so he could see her face. “Not angry?”  
“You thought you were attacking someone else.” Raven said simply. “A dangerous man, yes?”  
“Sir is evil. Hurt me. Hurts everyone.” Erik said, firmly.

“Why ever should I be angry with someone protecting my family?” Raven said. Erik stared at her. “Especially somebody who _is also_ part of my family?”   
Erik made a choking noise.  
“You are family here, Erik. I hope you know that.” Charles said. Erik swivelled his head between the two siblings, goggle eyed.   
“E- Family. I _am_?” They nodded. Slowly, Erik checked again: “Not angry? Not hurt?” They shook their heads.  
 _”Oh.”_ Erik said, faintly. His long arms uncurled from his sides to wrap around them both and for a long time, no one said anything else at all.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion gets underway.

Erik sat, anxiously, at the kitchen table. He wanted to fidget. Next to him, Charles put a reassuring hand on his arm. Erik smiled at him, as the others filed in. Hank greeted both of them politely, before turning to talk to Raven.   
“Is Kurt…?”  
“In bed and asleep two hours ago.” Raven said. “The boys and the rest of the school?”  
“Either in bed or on their way. I doubt any of them are actually sleeping, yet.” Hank said, seriously.

Logan shouldered through the door, grunted a wordless greeting and dropped into a seat at the table.  
“We all here?” he said. “Where’s Moira?”  
“I’m making a report to her later.” Charles said, calmly.  
“On what?”  
“I think the time has come to reveal Erik’s existence to her.” Charles said.  
“Charles is that wise?” Hank said, leaning forwards. “We don’t know-“

“Yes, but now Erik is more… himself, we can support his growth.” Charles said, earnestly. “He shouldn’t have to hide here. And we have confirmation that the main instigator of Erik’s sufferings has shown interest in the school… well, one of its inhabitants besides Erik.” Raven nodded, face serious.   
“He followed me, guys, when I was Erik, in town. I think Moira needs to know, stat. We can’t risk-”

Erik listened hard. They were talking about him. And about someone else, a Moira person. Who was she? Why didn’t they all want to keep Erik hiding and safe? Didn’t they know how dangerous it was to be seen?  
“Who’s Moira?” Erik said, nervously.  
“She’s an old friend, she-“ Charles began, easily.   
“She works for the CIA.” Raven said, curtly. Erik’s brow furrowed.  
“What’s See eyeyay?”

“The CIA’s primary mission is to collect, analyze, evaluate, and disseminate foreign intelligence to assist the President and senior US Government policymakers.” Hank said, apparently thinking that this would help. Logan snorted.  
“Get that off a webpage or a textbook, didya?”  
“What?” Erik said, confused.  
“Break that down for the kid, Hank.” Logan growled, pulling out a cigar. Hank opened his mouth. “Use one syllable words, bub.” Hank closed his mouth.

“They find out about bad guys so they can get people to stop them.” Raven said. “Mostly.” She amended. Now was not the time for a detailed discussion of US foreign policey and the CIA’s interactions thereof.  
“Would… would they want to know about Sir? About the labs?” Erik said, slowly. Under the table, his hand stole into Charles’s. Charles didn’t seem to mind.

“That’s why we’re here.” Charles said. “Erik, can you tell us about what happened to you? What you remember?” Erik blinked. Shuffled a bit.   
“All?” he said, unhappily. His sandwich man had helped Erik remember things, and put the memories in order, but most of them were bad. Apart from his mother’s- probably his mother’s- face, when she looked at him.  
“Just an outline?” Charles said, encouragingly. “So we have it all clear in our minds?”

“Was small.” Erik said, to the table. “Sir came. Said I was special.” He gave Charles a quick, sidelong glance. “Took me away. To…. To the labs.” Charles’ hand tightened on Erik’s. Erik took a deep breath.  
“Kept me. Tested me. _hurt me_ ” he said, in a smaller voice. “Hurt _lots_.”  
“I bet, buddy.” Logan rumbled. “ I bet.”  
“Didn’t like it.” Erik added, unnecessarily. “Made me forget.”

“He took your memories away?” Hank said, sharply. Erik shook his head.  
“No. Hurt to remember, but Charles helped. Makes me forget… this.” He waved his fingers, as he’d seen Charles do to read minds, and a spoon rose from the table and began to dance.   
“Except for tests.” Erik added.  
“The labs, this… man, he found a way to control your powers?” Hank said, slowly. “How? Any chance we could-” Logan coughed, meaningfully. Hank shut up.

Erik looked blank.  
“Can’t attack Sir.” he said, apologetically. _“Mustn’t.”_ He began to tremble, slightly. “Not with powers, not with fists, not…” The shaking got worse. “Sir says. And hurts.”  
“You were able to attack me when you thought I was him.” Raven said. Erik looked at her, startled. He stopped shaking, and thought for a moment.  
“Kurt was there.” He said, simply. “Couldn’t use” - the spoon danced again- “but. Kurt. Not hurt before. Shouldn’t start.”

Raven’s eyes welled up. Silently, Hank handed her his pocket handkerchief. She blew her nose, noisily.  
“And he’d already hurt you, so if he hurt you again, that mattered less?” Charles said, gently. Erik looked at him, surprised.  
“You there as well.” He pointed out. _No one_ was hurting anyone in front of Erik, especially not little blue Kurt or his… or Charles. The tips of Charles’ ears turned pink.

“Wait.” Logan said, sharply. “You know what this shithole looks like?”  
“Yes.” Raven said, “He followed me. That’s why we’re having this meeting.”  
“Show me.” Logan growled. “Show _all_ of us.” There was a steely slither of sound, and all his claws slid into view, quietly. Raven looked at Erik, who nodded. He wanted everyone to recognise Sir, so they’d know to run, to stay away. Raven drew in a breath and then she shifted, in a tall, rawly handsome man none of them knew.

Logan drew in a thoughtful lungful of air via his nose.  
“Still smells like you, Miss Blue.”  
“I don’t have your senses, Logan, I can’t adjust for them.” Raven said, tightly. Erik was shivering again. He knew Raven was not Sir, but all the same… he could not look at her, could not fight off the creeping fear that any minute now the shock stick would come out, and the needles, and…  
 _You are safe. We’re here. You are not alone._ Charles said, silently, just to Erik.

“So why wouldn’t we tell Moira?” Logan demanded, roughly. “Hell, tell the FBI, tell the fuckin’ _world if it’ll help us find this guy an’ stomp on him._ ” Erik liked the sound of that. Logan’s voice, so angry, wanting to stop Sir, because of Erik. And the picture of Logan, stomping on Sir was a fun one.  
“Sir is strong.” Erik said, warningly, to Logan. Logan grinned at him, tightly. “Yeah, but I’m stubborn, bub.” Raven let out a cackle of laughter.  
“Not like you’d be alone, either.” She said, feelingly.

“Because I’d quite like Erik to stay here, and so do you.” Charles said, crisply. Erik clutched at him, anxiously.  
“What?”   
“Moira’s got the resources of the CIA nominally at her fingertips, yes, but if Erik’s presence here becomes public, then we have to consider the other government machinery that might become involved.” Charles said, heavily.  
“I don’t-“ Logan said

“He means social workers.” Hank said, flatly. “Don’t you, Charles?”   
“The social care mutant department might decide-“ Charles said. Erik flung an arm around him, and pressed his face to Charles’ stomach.  
“Don’t want to go away.” He said, desperately. “Charles. Don’t. Don’t let them-“ Charles rubbed his head, soothingly.  
“No one’s taking you anywhere you don’t want to go, kid.” Logan said. “Don’t worry.”

“Well, can’t you tell Moira secretly?” Raven said, irriatedly. “She’s cool, for a non mutant, she’ll get the idea of need-to-know.” Hank smiled at her.  
“Why not invite her over to lunch one day?” he said, thoughtfully. “I’m sure if she meets Erik. she’ll see that him staying here is for the best, as well as tracking down this man.”  
“Tell her, we just need a name.” Logan put in. “Or an address.”  
“Moira doesn’t strike me as someone who would sanction something illegal-“ Charles began to say. Raven interrupted him.  
“She works for the _CIA_ , Charles.” He nodded.  
“Point.” Logan laughed. Erik frowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That description of the CIA's activties comes from the CIA's webpage. Because.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik wakes up in the middle of things.

There was a rumbling noise coming from somewhere. Erik’s head hurt. So did his leg. He moved, trying to straighten, and heard a dull thud, as his legs hit wood. He grumbled to himself. Whose bed had he fallen asleep under this time? Suddenly, he realised his metal sense was completely gone. This jerked him into full wakefulness. He tried to turn over and it was hard. Erik drew in a deep breath, sharply. He had to tell Charles!-  
“Stay still.” A girl’s voice said, from somewhere above him. “I heard them talking, they’re going to hurt you when they know you’re awake.”

Erik’s eyes shot open wide, and he jerked upright.  
“I said, stay _still._!” the girl said, and sniffed. Erik could tell she was about to, or had just been crying. Slowly, he looked around. He was in a cage. He swallowed down a wave of panic, and kept looking. How had he got here? The cage was narrow, and the metal room they were in was also small. He turned his head and looked into the eyes of a frightened girl in horribly familiar thin grey clothes, locked in the cage opposite him. She was wearing gloves. A flash of blue in there nearly stopped his heart; that was Kurt. Kurt was here, too.

“How..” he mumbled aloud, before the girl hushed him. Erik racked his brains. He’d been out, patrolling. Kurt had joined him. They had seen a new car approaching. Erik had thought it might be this Moira person, that Charles had gone to see, so he’d sneaked a little closer. Too close; he’d been spotted. Kurt had been caught- a little gun that fired needles had put him to sleep. He’d run and shouted- knowing Charles was away from the estate, but hoping someone would hear him. And then- nothing. Darkness. 

Erik began to shake. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew who had him. Sir. Or people like Sir, who’d grab at a little boy because he was blue, and try and _take him away_  
 _CHARLES!_ Erik screamed, inside his head. _Charles, help!_ There was no reply. Erik’s heart sank. No response from Charles meant his sandwich man could not hear him. Not that he was dead, or didn’t care, Erik told himself, as his heart lurched. Charles would never leave him or Kurt here. Never.

“Name?” he said, quietly.  
“’M Anne- Marie.” She said, and her eyes overflowed. Erik sat up. Kurt was very still.  
“I’m Erik. That’s Kurt.” He said, jerkily. “Don’t cry.”  
“Why, you gonna make it all _better?_ ” she snapped, but Erik didn’t mind. Angry was better than crying.  
“They like to see crying.” Erik said. She stared at him. He showed her his wrist tattoo, which the boys had called a bar code, and she blanched. “Going to labs.” He said. “Stay quiet, don’t cry or laugh there.”

The girl went very pale. Erik looked at her. She was about to cry, still.  
“Might escape. Don’t panic.” He said, encouragingly.  
“Escape, huh?” Anne Marie scrubbed her gloved hand over her face.  
“Did before.” Erik said, helpfully. “Got all the way to my sand- to Charles. Could again.”  
“You sure do talk funny.” She said, after a pause.  
“So do you.” Erik said, quickly. She smiled a little. Good. Erik felt a little better.

“What can you do?” Anne Marie said. He looked at her.  
“Look, they took- they wanted me ‘cause my foster parents said I could do stuff.” She said, eyes downcast. Erik didn’t press her. He didn’t like talking about his gift- Charles had taught him it was a gift- either.  
“They took the tyke here ‘cause he’s blue. One of ‘em said that, and that he knew you. So what can you do, when they haven’t filled you full of dampers?”  
“Metal” Erik said, reluctantly. “Move metal. Is... is Kurt ok?” She looked at the little boy in the cage with her, and nodded.   
“Sleeping.” She said. “Don’t think they gave him dampers- just sleeping stuff.” 

Erik nodded, as if it didn’t matter. He slid himself off the bench, quietly. Lower was safer, if there were techs about. They didn’t like bending to hit. Erik sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. This was so like his bad dreams. Kurt was being taken away. He, Erik, was alone, except for the girl. He had to get them both out of here. Before Sir arrived, with his blades and his needles and his _smile._. Before his pounding heart burst, or his insides rebelled and he was sick.

 _Charles!_ he called, one last time, but there was still nothing but silence and rushing void. Erik bit his lip. Charles could not hear him. Rescue was not coming. Erik looked at Kurt, and at Anne Marie. Children, both of them. Taken away. Like he had been. Children were supposed to be _safe._ Erik snarled to himself. No. No, that wasn’t going to happen. He was going to stop it from happening. Somehow. No one was going to hurt Kurt. Or Anne-Marie.  
“How long we been here…?” He began, slowly. Anne Marie looked up from staring at her hands to answer him.

“They put you and me in this van just after lunch. I’m awful hungry now, so… five hours, maybe? Don’t know how long they had you before.” Now that he thought about, Erik realised he too was fiercely hungry and very thirsty. You had to feed specimens, or at least give them water, before you did Tests. Erik knew. There was neither food nor water in the cages. That probably meant they were getting close to wherever the new labs were. He had to think very fast, and very smart, like Logan or Hank.

“Unca Rrrrrik?” a little voice whined. “Don’t feel so good.” Anne Marie bent over Kurt, quickly. Erik put his fingers through the bars, and wished he could do something. Kurt whimpered. Anne Marie spoke to him, soothingly.  
“Kurt?” Erik said, hopefully. “How are you?”  
“Head feels funny. Want a hug.” That was to Anne Marie, who flinched back from Kurt as if he the little boy was dangerous.  
“Kurt not a freak.” Erik snapped. “Don’t-“

“No, but I am.” She said, eyes glittering with tears. “Uh, when they haven’t filled me with drugs, that it. I- the stuff I can do? It kills people.” Erik cocked his head.  
“You not freak either.” Erik said. “Charles says; no one is allowed to be called freak.”  
“Yeah?” She said. “Tell that to these guys.”  
“Would do if could find.” Erik promised her. A thought struck him. “Kurt, can jump to Mansion?”  
“Too far from home.” Kurt said. “Sorry, Unca-“  
“Jump now.” Erik said, urgently. “Take Anne Marie, go, and keep going.”  
“What?” Anne Marie said, incredulous.

“No time.” Erik cut her off, and turned to Kurt. “We are in van. Moving. Jump small. “Anne-Marie, you go with Kurt, hide. Then, when safe, run. Take Kurt. Shout for Charles, in head.”  
“What if- Not supposed to jump with people.” Kurt said. Erik nodded.  
“Emergency.” He said firmly. “Anne-Marie not large person.”  
“Now, hey, just a minute. Suppose I don’t want to go with y’all?” Anne Marie said. Erik looked at her. She was wary. He could understand that.  
“Taking us to labs; labs very bad” he said, earnestly. “Escape. Run _now_. Look after Kurt.”

Slowly, she nodded. Kurt whimpered, softly.  
“Want momma.” He said. “Want Charles.”  
“Then jump.” Erik advised him. “Quick but careful.”  
“But- I can’t _touch_ you, Unca Rrik!” Kurt said. Erik nodded. “I can’t bring you-“  
“Bring back help.” Erik said, and tried to smile. It was hard. But he knew Kurt was too young to risk jumping all three of them, and he was not about to leave Anne Marie behind. 

She was young. Erik was old. He’d been in the labs before; they hadn’t. Children should be safe. Kurt could only carry one, and he couldn’t reach Erik. There was no other choice. Anne-Marie scrubbed her gloved hands over her face again, and took a deep breath. She gave Erik a long, steady look. He looked back, and nodded.   
“Well, then.” She said to Kurt. “Shall we blow this joint?” She smiled, bravely at the boy. Kurt giggled.

If this worked- if they got out- then, the labs would not be as bad as before. Huddled on the floor, he tried not to shiver, not to think of the labs, of the Tests. Erik did not think he would live very long, once they got their blades and pills and hands and needles back on him again. And yet. Whether or not Charles got there in time- and he would come for Erik, if he could, Erik knew that- he would have helped Kurt steal himself and the girl from the techs. And that was a victory. Maybe the best victory.

“Go.” Erik said, softly. 

Kurt jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, restarting work on this one with a bang. Hope the cliffhanger's not too painful.
> 
>  
> 
> :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne-Marie has no idea what is going on.

Anne-Marie had no idea what was going on anymore. Her foster parents had sold her three days ago. She’d seen the money change hands; so she wasn’t buying this enriched boarding school crap the fake social worker had tried to sell her on even before they stuck her full of drugs and stuck her in a cage. Anne Marie had tried not to panic then; she remembered her stupid promises to herself that she’d split as soon as she could, leave them all behind. Then they’d stuffed a little kid in with her, a little kid who was _way_ too young to be a juvie-bound dumb, disposable foster kid like her; even if he was blue. Oh, and a skinny unconscious dude who was way too _old_ to be a juvie frequent flyer like her.

The guy had been Erik, and she kind of thought he might be ok. He hadn’t shouted, or been dumb- just listened and asked a few questions. And then he’d sent her and Kurt away. Anne-Marie might not be book-smart, but she wasn’t the stupid kid her foster families and teachers seemed to think, either. Erik could have told Kurt to jump to him, take him out of there. Kurt likes his Uncles. He’s been talking about him and the other uncle, Charles, ever since they jumped. Erik could have made Kurt leave her behind, and instead he sent them both away. 

Anne Marie had seen the look on Erik face when he said where they were going was bad. He was afraid of it. But he’d freed her instead of himself. He was probably the only adult she could remember meeting who’d looked after her before himself. Her eyes prickled and stung. She blinked, fiercely. _It’s gonna be ok._ she told herself. _This Charles is gonna hear us yelling soon, and he’ll come get Erik, and-it’ll be ok._ It had to be. As long as none of the cars spotted them from the road, as long as the guys in the van didn’t realise she was gone and try back-tracing them, as long as she got Kurt away- things would be ok. 

Anne Marie’s feet hurt. She and little Kurt had been walking for hours, it felt like. They stuck close enough to the road, which seemed to be in the ass-end of nowhere- to know they weren’t going around in circles, but not so close the drivers might spot them. It was dark now, so that wasn’t too bad. She had shifted from being afraid it was gonna rain, and chill them both, to wishing it would. She was just so thirsty. The first truck stop they’d spotted, she’d crept up close, but it was too risky to do more than did through a trashcan. Somebody’d dumped the end of a carton of juice; and Kurt had had that, but there hadn’t been enough for two, and Kurt was smaller.

The scrapes and bruises she’d got when they hit the road surface after Kurt’s first jump still hurt like hell. Kurt had been wrapped up in her, so at least the kid- he couldn’t be more than five- was alright. He sure was heavy, though. The second jump, to the side of the road, had worn the kid out completely. She shifted her grip on him, and kept walking. The drugs might be out of her system soon; and when they were, Kurt’d have to walk himself- they could not risk her accidentally touching him once her freakishness came back.

 _-You really shouldn’t think of your gifts as freakish, my dear-_ someone said, gently, inside Anne Marie’s head. She nearly dropped Kurt. Panic roared up in her- had she finally gone crazy? Was the voice on the side of the labs? A wordless wave or reassurance washed over her.  
“Unca Charles!” the little boy crowed, happily. _-You here!-_ Anne-Marie set Kurt on his feet.  
 _-Ah, well, not quite.-_ The voice, surely Erik’s Charles, said regretfully. - _I’m pleased to have located you. Do you know where Erik is?-_

Anne-Marie could feel a tightly retrained, quivering urgency in Charles-voice. She hated having to tell him the bad news.  
 _-He sent us on.-_ she said. _Said Kurt could get further-_ She broke off. She was pretty sure the other voice was trying not to cry, or something. _-I’m sorry.-_  
 _-You don’t need to apologise for something that’s not your fault, my dear.-_ Charles said, kindly. _-The people who took all three of you are to blame. And I_ will _be dealing with them, I promise you.-_ Anne Marie shivered at the iron determination behind the words.

 _-Now.-_ Charles said, brightly. _-Do you know where you are?-_ Anne Marie squinted into the darkness.  
 _-Highway. In the dark.-_ she said, laconically. _-They put me on a plane before dumping me into the cage, I don’t even know what state I’m in.-_  
 _-How did they find-_ Charles said. Anne Marie didn’t want him to ask more. The memory of her foster-dad counting and recounting the money popped into her head, and she felt it Charles’ focus broke off, sharply. She felt a wave of panic.

 _-I’m sorry.-_ he said, after a moment. _-I was distracted for a moment.-_  
 _-Wanna go home._ Kurt said. _-Too far.-_  
 _-For you, love, but not for your papa.-_ Charles said. _-I just need to loop him in and… There!-_ He sounded pretty pleased. Sounded like help for Kurt was going to happen.. Carefully, she put Kurt down, and looked at him.  
“You’re gonna be ok, kid.” she said, hopefully. She wondered what _she_ was going to do.  
“Papa’s coming!” He said, gleefully. Anne Marie tried to smile. 

There was strange bamfing noise, and a strong smell of sulphur. Anne Marie clutched Kurt to her when he squealed. Maybe it _wasn’t_ Kurt’s dad at all.  
“I’ll take care of you. It’ll be ok.” She promised, staring wide eyed into the dark.  
“Kurtling? Kurt?” A strange, husky voice spoke. Anne-Marie tensed. She got ready to run, just in case.  
 _-Hey, uh, Charles?-_ she said. Fear began to rise in her.  
 _-It’s going to be alright, Anne-Marie.-_ he said, instantly. She tried to believe him.  
“Papa!” Kurt yelled, and then he jumped, leaving Anne Marie’s arms empty.

“Ah ha!” The new stranger chortled. She peered in the dim light, but all she could make out was darkness moving on darkness.  
“Papa papa papa!” Kurt was babbling, and Anne-Marie breathed out. So. One kid safe, then.  
 _-Two.-_ Charles said, firmly. _-Azazel is going to bring you both safely to me. I promise.-_ Anne-Marie closed her eyes. A dizzying wave of relief went through her.  
“Hallo? Little girl?” Kurt’s papa said. “I cannot see you.”  
“I’m not a little girl.” Anne Marie snapped, and he laughed. Not meanly, just like she’d actually said something funny. She could see movement from where his voice had come from.

“How are we getting out of here? Are you like Kurt?”  
“Da, like my son.” He said, moving closer. “Take my hand. I bring you to the Professor.”  
“P-professor?” Anne Marie said, uneasy. Professors were smart. Not like-  
 _-He means me.-_ Charles said, at the same time as Kurt’s dad- Azazel- said  
“Charles. Charles the voice in your head.” Anne Marie could hear the smile in his voice before she spotted the gleam of teeth and eyes in the low light as he moved closer. 

Something seemed to be off about the skin surrounding these features, at first, until she blinked and realised the man was as red as his son, clinging tightly around the man’s neck was blue. And they both had tails. Both mutants. And Charles-viice probably was too. She relaxed, just a little.  
“Oh. Ok.” Anne Marie said. He moved into a dramatic bow in a way that reminded her of the Disney princes she was too old to watch these days. As he rose from it, he held out a hand to her, imperiously.  
“Come.” He said, grandly. Nervously, Anne Marie put her hand in his. Kurt giggled.

The late night darkness was replaced by the chill nothing of the jump space.

 

The chill nothing was replaced by bright lights and way too many people.

Anne Marie gaped. They were in some fancy room, part of a really big building, she could feel it. She’d have though it a hotel, except hotel kitchens didn’t look like this. And it wasn’t any old group home or offices, either. It was too cheerily domestic, too recently decorated and too full of kid’s drawings tacked up on the walls. Lucky Kurt, growing up in a place like this. If he had. Anne Marie swallowed. She had no idea where she was, or why. Warily she eyed the others sitting around the long table.   
Two blue people- one a huge blue furry guy, one a nice-looking lady- who was clinging to Kurt and Azazel and crying, so maybe that was his mom, one quiet, dark haired lady, one burly looking guy with sideburns you could hide a badger in and- oh. She bet the blue eyed guy, the one in the grandpa cardigan and tweed slacks, she just bet he was the Professor, Erik’s Charles.  
“Hello, Anne Marie. I’m Charles.” He said, and his voice matched the one in her head. His smile was brilliant, even if he looked worried and tired.  
“Hi.” She said, gruffly.

“I am so pleased to meet you in the flesh.” He said. “I- my goodness, you are hungry, aren’t you?”   
“How could you tell?” Anne Marie said, and immediately felt stupid, as he tapped his temple, meaningfully.  
“Telepath, I’m afraid.” Of course he was, that’d been why he’d been able to find them, and send Kurt’s dad to come get them. “  
Hank-“ He turned to the big blue guy. “Hank, can we have some soup and possibly a sandwich? This brave young lady needs feeding.” 

It seemed like the next second, Anne Marie was sitting down at the table and the blue guy was putting a bowl of delicious smelling soup in front of her and sliding another along to Kurt. She made herself drink a glass of water before she tried the soup.  
“Eat that slowly.” Hank said, peering at her through his glasses. “There’s more if you’re still hungry, but eat too quick-  
“And I throw up, yeah, know that one.” Anne Marie said. The last but two of her foster families had used food as reward and punishment. Like everything else about them, it had sucked. She caught Charles frowning out of the corner of her eye, as she refilled her glass from the water jug.

She dropped her eyes back to her food and concentrated on the soup for a while. The adults talked over her head.   
“This is good. Thanks.” She said, shyly, at last, and Hank smiled, which looked kind of awesome on his lion-like features.  
“Ready for more?” She nodded. No one seemed annoyed. Hank whipped up her bowl and moved towards the stove. Anne Marie looked around again. Kurt was looking very sleepy, snuggled between his mom and dad. The dark haired woman was talking to the hairy man, and they were both looking at some map.

No, she realised, a second later. They were both looking at her.  
“Anne Marie?” The dark haired lady said. “I’m Moira McTaggart. We’re trying to track down where it was you and Erik might have been headed. I know it’s late and you’re very tired; but do you think you could answer a few questions?”  
“To help rescue Erik? Sure, anything.” Anne Marie said. “He was really nice.”Charles was looking at her. She swallowed and said, softly.  
“Mr Charles?” He smiled at her, warm, but still with that edge of frantic worry.  
“What is it?”

“I- I’m sorry.” She said, jerkily. “I- if I hadn’t been there, maybe Kurt could have jumped both of them away, and your, and Erik would be here too. It’s. I’m sorry.” Charles looked very sad, suddenly..  
“Not your fault.” The red-skinned man said, sharply, at the same time as the others. “Assholes kidnapped all three of you, I say that makes this fuck up their fault.” The hairy man growled, as he rotated the map.  
“Logan…” Charles said, wearily. Logan looked up, and winked at Anne Marie, unrepentant.

“Sorry, kiddo. The _buttholes_ kidnapped all three of you, so this uh, _mess_ is their fault.” Anne Marie giggled. She stopped, startled. She had giggled- laughed at all, really- for two years. Not since her powers had come online.  
“Logan…” Charles said, again.   
“Call it like I see it, Chuck.” He growled. “Snatching kids is-“  
“They didn’t snatch me.” Anne Marie said. “They paid my foster parents for me. Said I was going to a special school.”  
“What?” Moira said, leaning forwards.

“They told my foster parents there was this really cool school for “difficult” kids. Mutants.” She shrugged. “Like the one on the TV all the time.” Logan snorted. “They saw the cash and they stopped asking questions.” The room went very quiet. Anne Marie bit her lip. She wasn’t going to cry. She _wasn’t/_  
“Bastards.” Charles said, matter-of-factly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, Ma! No cliffhanger!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik in the hands of his enemies.

The little room smelled of sulphur. Kurt and Anne Marie were gone. Erik crawled back onto the metal bench in his cage and waited. He waited anxiously at first, fearing that they would know too soon, would stop the van, go after them, and drag the children back. Back to this van, which was taking him back to the labs. Slowly, as the van kept going, Erik began to be more worried about his own fate..   
“Find me.” Erik said, aloud, to the empty cage and the locked door. Charles would find him. Charles would come. Wouldn’t he? The van rumbled and jerked. 

Hungry and weary, Erik dropped into a light doze, as time ground on. He did not dream.  
The van stopped, waking him. Distant doors banged. Erik tensed where he lay. Soon. Soon they would come to unload and then they would spot-  
The doors creaked open. The room swayed as someone climbed up into it.  
“What the-!” Shouts and curses filled the air as the strangers- they didn’t look like techs, so they were security, maybe- noticed half their prey was missing. Erik began to sweat.  
“You! Where are the kids?” Erik kept his eyes shut, and didn’t answer.   
“He’s a dummy. Came in with the blue kid.” One of the voices informed the other. “Already on the database; look.”

“Alright.” The first voice said, irritably. “Hey, dummy.” The cage door rattled open.  
“Get out here, now.” Erik shivered harder, clinging to the bench. The cage was better than wherever they wanted to take him. He heard the warning buzz-whine of a shockstick as they entered the cage.  
“Up.” Hands grabbed at him. Passively, Erik let them drag him out of the cage, into the outside. The van was in a building of some kind.

Erik let himself slump, limply, into their rough grasp. He let his head hang as he squinted around. Concrete floor, stained with oil and dirt. Concrete walls, painted with numbers and arrows. Smells of gasoline and car exhaust. He was in a garage The two men dropped him onto the floor, and started arguing with a third. Erik focused his attention on the garage doors- wide, ridged metal doors- and concentrated. No good. His gift, his metal control was still gone. Still, he refused to give up hope. Not just yet.

The garage doors quivered and began to open. Erik got his feet and ran for them, quick and silent. A startled shout followed by pounding feet told him he’d been spotted. He ran, desperate, towards the steadily widening door, chest heaving.  
 _Charles **CharlesCHARLES**_ Erik screamed, silently, as the feet grew close. _Help me!_ he called as he was tackled off his feet, almost at the opening door. _Help-_ The shockstick dropped Erik into unconsciousness, cutting off his last calls for help.

 

Erik woke as they were prepping him for intake. He had been blindfolded, stripped naked, and they’d restrained him to a lab table. Erik had to fight to keep himself from screaming and struggling; his memories told him that never ended well, not here. The buzzing of the electric shaver told him that his hair was being taken, again. Gloved hands fumbling at his elbow meant they wanted his blood again, and lingering soreness told Erik they’d probably taken all the other samples techs liked from him. He felt a little relieved. Samples always hurt and quite often he could tell when the techs got excited because of that.

“What’s this one to be designated?” a voice said. Erik thought it might be a woman. He didn’t recognise any of the voices at all.  
“Already marked. This is test subject E.” a man’s voice said, and someone touched his wrist, moving it to display the barcode. Erik wanted to howl.  
“Oh.” She didn’t sound very pleased. “Good to have you back again, Subject E.”  
“I’m Erik.” He said out loud, into the room beyond his blindfold. “Not E. _Erik._  
He was ignored.

 

After the samples were taken, Erik got a reward. They pulled off his blindfold, leaving him squinting in the bright light, and most of them left. They talked among themselves, not even looking at him, as if Erik was another piece of equipment. One of the techs- quite young- brought Erik two bottles, one of water and one of some thickish grey green liquid. It was familiar. Hank had sometimes drunk smoothies that colour. Erik sighed, thinking of the taste of those smoothies, as the tech held the water to his lips. 

Erik drank, thirstily, and then, he remembered something Raven had been teaching Kurt, lately.  
“Thank you.” He said, hoarsely. The tech blinked, startled. When he offered the smoothie-thing, he lifted Erik’s head slightly, making it easier for him to swallow. It tasted like liquid rations from before; although Erik liked it much less now he had orange juice and soup and hot chocolate to compare it to. Still, it was food.  
“Thank you.” Erik said again, when he was done. The tech looked away for a moment, swallowing.

The tech untied Erik and watched, fumbling with his shockstick, as Erik swayed, dizzy and weary, naked in the centre of the lab.  
“Move.” He said, almost tonelessly.  
“Clothes.” Erik said, ducking his head. “Then move.” He was determined to stay Erik as long as he could. That meant wearing clothes, using manners; it meant remembering his name; remembering his friends. His family. Charles. His shoulders tightened; bargaining or demanding things from the techs had never ended well before.

The tech gaped at him for a moment, and then nodded, sharply. Erik flinched as the other man moved past him, but the shockstick stayed in its holster. The tech reached into a cupboard and pulled out a t-shirt and a thin pair of pants with a drawstring waist. He threw them at Erik, who put them on, rapidly. The tech jerked his head, and Erik shuffled on. He knew better that to hope for shoes or underwear. But some clothes were better than being naked. He remembered that, too. Erik was a person. He _was._ They shouldn’t be doing this to him; he had to remember that. Erik had to hold on to himself. Charles would come.

The tech ushered him onto a hauntingly familiar room, and backed out, locking the door behind him. The lights dimmed. Left alone in a darkened cell again, Erik had to repeat the thought that Charles- or one of the others- would come soon several times. He walked around, squinting in the dim light. The cell was exactly like the ones on the old lab; not like the one he’d escaped from. Smooth concrete covered walls and floor, and there was no window to the outside. One of the walls held one of the funny mirrors that you could see through if you stood outside the cell itself. 

There was a tap, set high enough in the wall that Erik could wash himself, and a grating too small to crawl through below, for water and waste to flow away into. The water was tepid; not cool enough to be refreshing to drink, and not warm enough to wash in comfortably. Thanks to the tech, he wasn’t thirsty, anyway. Erik sat on the concrete slab that jutted out of the back wall, away from the tap. A thin plastic pad covered the slab. It wasn’t the worst bed he’d ever had; but he couldn’t hide from any watches underneath that. Erik swallowed. Fear clawed at him; and he knew he had to stay calm, stay ready. Surely Charles could come. Or he would find a way to escape again. 

Erik wrapped his arms around his knees.. He let his eyes close. 

 

He woke, panicked, sometime later. Someone was unlocking the cell door. Erik stared. Was he going to have to do a Test, now, so soon after recapture, or-  
“Hello, there.” _No_. No, not him. “I _am_ pleased to see the prodigal return safely.” The voice was smooth. Smooth and cold and sharp, like ice. He was smiling, white teeth sharp in his tanned, terrifying face. Erik didn’t let himself shake. He flattened himself against the wall, hopelessly, as the hated, feared, familiar voice kept talking.  
“You surprised me at how long you lasted out there, subject E. I would have thought you-” 

“Not.” Erik said, jerkily. “Not E. Not a test subject.” He gasped in air and repeated his name. “Erik.” Sir’s face tightened, briefly. Erik squeezed his eyes shut.   
“Teenage rebellion from you, Subject E? A little old for that, aren’t you?” Sir said, smoothly, walking into the cell, hands caressing a shock stick. Erik swallowed, rapidly. His heart was pounding fiercely. There was a minute tremble in his hands now.

“Erik.” Erik said, eyes low. “I’m Erik.” Charles had helped him remember his name; the name this man had taken from him. He clung to that memory desperately.  
“Erik _What?_ ” Sir snapped. “You’re mine, subject, E. Mine.” Erik swallowed. He could see the temper flaring in the other man’s eyes, in his hands, restlessly flexing on the shock stick  
“Erik.” He said, again, soft and determined. 

Sir barked a rough laugh, and raised the shockstick high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like a bad person now.
> 
> *crawls away*


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things blow up expectedly and unexpectedly.

Erik’s muscles spasmed in painful aftershocks. His mind seemed to stutter and freeze. He tried to make himself think. Metal. There was metal in the shock stick. There was also metal surrounding Sir’s head, in the hinges of the door, and in the pipes in the walls. Erik could feel it. His gift, his metal control… it was coming back to him. The drugs the techs gave him must be wearing off. But Sir was there. He couldn’t use his powers around Sir. Conditioned, Charles had called it. Erik didn’t understand the word, what it meant, without Charles there. He had to _think._

Erik gulped in air and waited for the shock-stick caused trembling in his body to die away. Sir lifted the shock stick again, and Erik flinched. He had become less used to pain in his time of freedom. Now, two or three blows form a stick, and he was twitching on the floor, helpless.  
 _-Charles-_ he begged, hopelessly. He didn’t speak the name aloud. He didn’t want Sir to know the names of the people who had helped him.  
“Sit up, Subject E.” Sir said.  
“Erik.” Erik said, and did not move. Sir grabbed him by the neck, yanking Erik upright. Erik gazed up into that familiar, hated face, crowned and framed in metal, and hated him.

“You are not Erik.” he said, between his teeth. “You are my test subject, designation E. Admit it, or I’ll shock you again.” The stick was raised. Erik glared at him, wordless. _”Admit it.”_  
“Not.” Erik said. “Yours. Not. E. _Never again_ -” He broke off, yelling in pain as Sir shocked him again. _Metal_. He thought, dazedly, as he fell onto his side, again. _Stick has metal_. Sir raised the shockstick again. _Stop._ he thought at it, desperately, and it did. Sir tugged at it, and swore.  
“Let go!” Erik clung to the metal in the stick, pulling and twisting.

The stick spat out burning sparks and smoke. Sir swore again, and dropped it. A roll of thunder seemed to run through the cell, and the lights flickered. Sir looked puzzled for a moment.  
“Using metal around _me_ , Subject E?” he said, grinning horribly. “You have forgotten a lot, while you were away. Time for a reminder, I think.” He grabbed Erik with vice like hands and started to drag him from the cell. Erik yelled. He remembered what Sir thought of as “Lessons.”  
“No. No lesson, no!”  
“Uncooperative, destructive…” Sir was yelling.

“Sebastian Shaw.” A new voice said, cool, and restrained. Erik knew that voice. He _knew_ it; and the person behind it. “Let him go.” Although normally it didn’t sound so coldly angry. Erik smiled, in joyful relief. He had been right. He had come. Right to believe, to remember, to hope. Familiar blue eyes smiled back at him. Charles had come for him.   
_-Charles. You found me.-_ he said, silently.   
_-Of course.-_ Charles’ voice wrapped around Erik’s head, joyful and protective. Sir’s grip tightened bruisingly on Erik’s neck and arm

“And just why should I do that, Charles?” Sir said, cheerfully. “Our little joint project was fun, but really-“ he shook Erik, playfully, as he struggled- “I do think I put in more of the work.” Charles blinked at him. Sir kept talking. “This catch and release thing is all very well. I’m going to have a lot of fun working out what - **our** subject learnt.” he said, grinning viciously, “But you have no gun, and really, we’ve worked together before, but-“ He straightened, dragging Erik to his feet  
 _-Erik-_ Charles said, rapidly, alarmed. _Don’t believe him- Don’t-_

 _-Of course I don’t believe him-_ Erik said, silently. Aloud he said  
“Stupid. Liar.” Sir hit him. Erik bared his teeth, in a silent, snarling challenge. He struggled again, and was pulled back against Sir’s body, shielding it from Charles or anyone else who came into the cell.  
“Erik is not a project. Let him go _now._ ” Charles said, wrathfully. Shaw tilted his head to one side. He was smiling strangely.  
“Make me.” He crooned. Charles put a hand to his temple, and Erik held his breath, hoping. Charles’s eyes went wide.   
Erik’s heart hammered, sickeningly, in his chest as Sir chuckled, lazy and self-assured..

“You can’t, can you?” He smiled, mockingly. “The greatest telepath the world has ever known, and you can’t make. Me. Do. A. Thing. “ He tapped the metal covering his head.  
“Charles…” Erik said, fearfully from his place on the floor. Sir stood over him, triumphant. Why didn’t his powers work?  
“It’ll be alright Erik.” Charles said, gently. “I promised you, remember?” His eyes snapped back to Shaw. Another roll of thunder rolled through the building. Charles smiled, lethally polite, at Shaw. “You didn’t think I was stupid enough to come _alone_ , did you?” He breathed in, and blinked. 

“In any case, I can assure you that everyone here is willing to co-operate with the authorities. _Extremely_ willing.” Shaw went pale.  
“You can’t- your crippling morality-“ Charles smiled, and his eyes burnt like gas flames. Erik could feel Charles’s anger building, like storm clouds, in the back of his head.  
“I don’t think, Sebastian Shaw.” Charles said, very carefully “That now is a good time to talk to me about my _morality._ ” Shaw sneered at him, and wrapped an arm around Erik’s neck, an arm like stone. Erik made a choking noise. Charles looked worried.

“I and my subject are going to walk out of here, and you’re going to make sure no-one stops us. Or I’ll break his neck.” Shaw snapped. Charles looked at them both, and stepped back from the door, reluctantly. _-Play along. Just for now-_ he said, into Erik’s head. Erik felt a wave of terror wash over him.  
“No.” he said, aloud. “Charles, please, no, I-“ Shaw jerked him along.  
“Mine.” He panted into Erik’s ear, hotly. “Or I’ll take him, too.” Erik went numb. No. No, he couldn’t let him hurt Charles. He swallowed, and walked into the hallway, Sir’s arm still around his neck like a leash.

Shouting echoed across the building. Somewhere, in his daze of terrified disbelief- Sir was taking him away, why didn’t Charles stop him, why- the voices sounded familiar. Logan. Hank. Erik tried to stop panicking, without much success. Sir was here, was holding Erik, hurting him, and he couldn’t stop it. And Charles wasn’t able to do anything. He let out a terrified moan. 

Once they were in the hall, Charles rushed them both. He body checked Shaw, and tried to tackle Erik away from his captor. Shaw laughed as Charles simply bounced off him.  
“Foolish, Charles.” He let go of Erik, flinging him brutally hard into the wall. Erik cried out at the stunning impact. Dizzy, he was unable to avoid Shaw’s second punch. Reeling, Erik slid to the floor.

“Stop _hurting_ him!” Charles roared, and moved in on Shaw again. Shaw simply absorbed the blow, grinning as Charles’s wrist broke with a dull popping noise. Charles yelped in startled pain. Shaw moved unnervingly fast, seizing Charles by the throat and hoisting him off his feet.  
“Charles.” Shaw said, almost tenderly. “I’m one of the New Breed. Destined to be a ruler of the masses.” Charles made a choking noise. Shaw tightened his grip on Charles’s throat. “Like you. We could be brothers in power.” Charles made a furious noise, even as his air was choked off.

“You know it’s true.” Shaw said, lightly. “We’re the future, you and I.”  
“I know that’s bullshit.” Logan said, unexpectedly, from behind them. “Stop it, bub. We got you cornered.” The great metal claws slid out of his hands with a hiss. Charles made a gurgling noise.  
“I don’t think so.” Shaw said. “I want a helicopter. Now. Or you can all watch your precious professor choke to death.” His eyes flicked to Erik, contemptuously. “And over _that_? I don’t think you will.”   
_-Logan-_ Charles said, breathless, into both their heads. _-Get Erik out of here. I’ll be, be-._ He slumped, mental voice fading.

Erik watched, horrified anew, as Logan backed up. Charles was going grey. His lips were turning blue. Erik breathed in, and reached inside himself. Past the fear, past the pain, past, even the joy, the hope seeing Charles at the door to his cell had given him. Right down to the bedrock, deep into the protective rage that seeing Charles hurt, struggling caused. Deep down, under the ancient granite of anger, lived his bright memory, the serene happiness of the little boy who had known how to light a candle for Mutti. Erik set his feet against that memory, using it to brace himself as he pushed his powers outwards, turning them on Shaw.

Sir was always strong, able to hit and be hit without ever tiring or being hurt. But, Erik, was certain, he still needed to breathe. He focused on the metal protecting Shaw’s head. Shaw brushed, irritably, at his eyes, as the metal began to move, liquefying and running like thick wax.  
“What-“ he said, and Erik used the opportunity to run the metal into his tormentor’s open mouth, over his eyes and nose, silencing him as it suffocated. It was painfully difficult, as Erik’s mind fought against him. He shouldn’t use his powers on Shaw, Sir was going to hurt him for this, hurt him and keep hurting him. 

Erik ignored the whispering terror and doubts. Charles needed his help, needed- Logan slashed his claws through Shaw’s wrist, and dragged an ominously limp and silent Charles out of his grip. Erik squeezed the metal tighter as Shaw flailed at the slippery metal clinging to his face. He had to be sure. Charles needed to be safe. Shaw fell over.  
“Erik-“ a voice wheezed at him. Oh good. Charles could talk again. Pleased, Erik squeezed the metal again. Shaw’s body started convulsing.

 _-Erik, you have to let go! I know what this means to you, but you have to let go!-_ Charles shouted in his head. Shaw’s body began to smoke. Brilliant cracks of light began to appear all over him. Logan swore and started dragging them both away.  
 _Don’t kill him!_ Charles begged.  
 _-We need him to die-_ Erik pointed out, logically. _-No one safe ever, while Sir-_  
 _-Shaw is an energy controlling mutant!-_ Charles snapped. _-When he dies **this whole place is going to blow**_

“Oh.” Erik said. “Sorry?”

 _-Too late-._ he added. _-Metal’s in his chest, now.-_  
“Charlie, sound the alarm.” Logan muttered. “We gotta get out of here.”  
 _EVERYBODY LEAVE THE BUILDING **NOW** -_ Charles said at deafening volume. He added a wordless command to obey him over this; for the benefit of any of the technicians who remained un subdued Erik pulled away from Logan, and dragged Charles over his shoulder. Logan grinned at Erik, so he ignored Charles’ protests, and started running.

Logan laughed.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles wakes up after the raid.

Charles woke up. There were no minds in the immediate vicinity to disapprove, so he tried to sit up. He promptly regretted it. His legs let him know they were not at all happy he’d used his braces without sticks or wheelchair during the rescue of Erik. His spine joined in, sending vigorous pulses of pain as he tried to move.  
“…” Charles tried to speak, and regretted that, too. His throat felt sore, swollen and bruised. Charles remembered the frantic few minutes he’d been helpless in Shaw’s grasp, and shivered.  
 _-Ow-_ he said, rather plaintively.

“You were very eager to be in on the raid.” Moira McTaggert said, as she strolled in to his room. “Assured me you were up to it, in fact.”  
 _-I **was ******_\- Charles said, indignantly.  
“No one got-“ He rasped. Moira rolled her eyes.  
“Shut up and drink this while I shout at you.” Charles was about to protest, but he was silenced by the sweet, seductive sight of the glass Moira was carrying. He reached out.

Moira, cruel tease, put the glass down on the side. Charles did not pout. Then she started lifting pillows, and hauling him upright, and he did not pout somewhat less. When she handed him the glass, Charles beamed at her, sincerely.  
“And stop trying to reassure me, I’m not a suspicious parent.” Moira said, dryly. Charles was too busy sipping and then gulping the water to reply.

“Thank you, Moira” he said, when the glass was empty. “Is Er- is everyone all right?”  
“Yes.” Moira said. “ He is, at least, Hank says so. He won’t talk to me.” Charles looked puzzled. “Thankfully everyone else is well, too. Not that my superiors care. What were you thinking?”  
“I was thinking that a very dear and vulnerable friend of mine had disappeared, along with my nephew.” Charles snapped. “I was thinking that I had promised him he was safe here.” Moira blinked, apparently surprised at his vehemence. “I was thinking that it was time to take a stand against whoever was trying to hurt them.”

“And the kidnappers this time were his old holders? I see-“ Moira said.  
“His old torturers, yes.” Charles said. “You don’t know, Moira, you do not know what they did to him. And he survived, survived years of _hell_ , and sent my four year old nephew and a teenager to safety rather than himself, because _they could not take who he was away from him_.”  
“That’s why you wanted them stopped, but should you have risked, um, with your legs-“  
“Myself?” Charles snapped. “For Erik? **Every. Time**.” He took a deep breath. 

“Look, I’m not useless, just because my legs are too often froward and rebellious.”  
“No one should ever say you are, Charles.” Moira said. Charles smiled, slightly.  
“Erik trusts me. When- when we were working with Anne-Marie’s foster parents and the maps,   
“If my working with you mean threatening with metal harm and Logan.” Moira said. “  
“We were trying to locate the centre” Charles said, with dignity, before he said, quietly. “I heard him screaming for me.” Moira winced. 

“He was so hurt and so afraid, but he knew it would be alright, because I was going to come and rescue him.” Charles stopped, and tried to catch his breath. Why were his hands trembling now? Everyone was fine.  
“Oh.” Moira said, just as quietly.  
“So, you see-“  
“No, I get it, Charles. I really do.” Moira said. “But why involve the CIA? You do know this sort of thing is more the FBI’s territory than mine, don’t you?”   
“Erik escaped from what was obviously a large, possibly international organisation.” Charles said, primly. “I thought it was best to start at the top.” Moira smiled.

“Yes, well, the paperwork’s going to be fun.” She said, dryly. “Massive illegal human experimentation, kidnapping, child endangerment, murder, bribery, building code violations- I’ll be working on this for months.”  
“You should use it to argue for an assistant and a promotion or two.” Charles said, and grinned at her, almost as if he was completely fine, and not in pain and badly shaken.

The door creaked. Charles flicked his mind out, and smiled. Erik was waiting, very quietly for Charles to look tired, so he could come in and shoo this new person away, and check for himself that his sandwich man was fine.  
“Erik?” he said out loud and _-Please come in, I want to know you’re all right-_ as Erik jumped and seemed ready to retreat.

Slowly, Erik shuffled into the room. He was back in his favourite and somewhat ratty sweats although he did not normally wear a knitted hat. Charles suspected Raven.  
“Charles?” Erik said, in a near-whisper, edging around the bed warily. He looked at Moira, but looked away when she smiled at him.  
“Come sit.” Charles said, and patted the side of the bed. Erik completed the last few steps in a rush, before settling, very tentatively at Charles’s side.

Charles threw his arms around as much of Erik as he could reach and held on, fiercely. Erik made a small, startled noise, before melting into the hug. Charles drew Erik’s mind towards him, too, needing to check everything about Erik that he could check, all at once. Erik relaxed even more, sighing in relief.  
“You’re all right.” He said, hoarsely “You’re here, you’re safe.” Charles closed his eyes, and blinked away the odd wetness there. Erik pulled back, slightly, and looked at him, faintly concerned. Moira got up, quietly, and began to leave the room.

“Ah- Moira, we’ll talk later, all right?” Charles said, quickly.   
“Sure, Charles. I’ll tell Hank you’re ready for food, right?”  
“Right.” Erik said, firmly. Charles stared.  
“Food is important.” Said Erik, firmly. “And Hank keeps baking. Raven said will run out of space soon.”  
“Hank is stress baking again?” Charles said. “Oh dear.”  
“Hank is pie-baking” Erik said, helpfully. “Also bread. And Cakes.” He looked quite cheerful. Charles wrapped his arms around him again.

Erik pulled away, briefly, and then buried his face in Charles’s pyjama clad chest   
“I’m sorry I just- You were calling me, I could hear you screaming and I had to- have to-“ Charles said, abruptly. Erik made a pleased noise.  
“You came.” He rumbled, quietly. “Got me out. Stopped Sir. Stopped techs.”  
“I couldn’t stop him; his helmet- I thought we were going to lose you again-“ Charles said, brokenly. Erik shook his head.  
“Not losing me, now. Not ever.” He said. Charles smiled. They hugged each other quite desperately for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little extra before the long weekend!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the outside world gets involved.
> 
> Note: I know nothing about what sort of social workers and state officials would come crawling out of their desks if a very badly traumatised person just turned up one day after a life spent as a medical experiment; assuming they got interest and help as oppsoed to falling through the cracks and becoming a street person. Further note that given that Erik turned up at Charles' place, and then the CIA got involved, we only have to worry about them a little.

Erik was not sure what was going on. He squinted at the strangers in the room, dubiously.  
“Why talk to them?” he said, not quietly enough. They appeared to ignore him. Erik felt even more uncertain.  
“They’re social workers- well, one’s a psychologist.” Charles said, brightly. “They’re here to help you.”  
“Can help by _leaving_.” Erik mumbled. Logan snorted. Charles frowned at him. “Logan…” he said, warningly.  
“Yeah, I know, Charlie. Gotta get Erik his papers.” Charles nodded.  
“Social security numbers can be useful Logan, I know I’ve told you that.”  
“Where were they all when he was a kid, that’s what I want to know.” Logan grumbled.

Charles raised an eyebrow. Erik subsided.  
“Ask.” He said, resigned, to the two strangers.  
“Thank you, Mr…”  
“Am Erik.” Erik said, flatly. Logan began a casual inspection of his nails. Using his claws.  
“We haven’t yet recovered Erik’s surname from his memories.” Charles said, quietly.  
“Mr Erik.” Said the man, politely. Erik nodded at him. “It’s my job to make sure some people have what they need to feel safe and get better.” Erik looked at him. He was a quiet-spoken person, wearing a simple dark suit like the ones Charles sometimes wore. No cardigan, though. 

Charles smiled, faintly, and sat back. Erik was glad he was there. He didn’t like strangers, not even here, in the library of Charles’s house. Not when they wanted to talk to him, Erik. He was pleased Logan was there, too.  
“Doing my job well is important to me.” The man said, with a slight smile.“So I’m asking you to help me.” Oh. That sounded interesting. Not a lot of people outside of the mansion wanted Erik’s help. The woman he was sitting next to him smiled too but Erik didn’t like that smile. Too many teeth, not enough creases round the eyes. And she smelled funny; like too many flowers too close together.  
“How?” Erik said, cautiously.  
“We just have a few questions for you.” She said, brightly. Erik frowned.  
“Just talking.” The man said. “I’m Phil, by the way.”  
“Phil.” Erik said, and nodded, shortly. “Ask.” He flicked his eyes over, but the strange woman did not introduce herself.

“You think you’re around thirty, is that right?” she said, instead. Erik hunched his shoulders slightly.  
“Charles says, probably. Don’t know birthday. Gone” She frowned, slightly, and made a note on her paper. Erik swallowed. Why did she want to know?  
“You think your name is Erik?” She said, scribbling away. “With a k?” Erik felt sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.  
“Know it is. Charles helped me find again.” Erik looked over at Charles. He wanted to hug Charles, hold on to him, during this questioning, but Charles had said, not in meetings. This was a meeting.

“Do you know what country-“ She began, but Phil cut her off before Erik could ask her what a country was. He hadn’t understood Hank’s explanation. Too many syllables.  
“Erik.” Phil said, leaning forwards, and looking at Erik, steadily. “Are you happy here?”  
“Yes.” Erik said, simply. Phil smiled. Logan retracted his claws, satisfied with his nails.  
“Why?” Phil said, gently. Erik stared at him. He smiled, ruefully. “My job is checking you’re safe and happy, remember?”  
“And getting better.” Erik said, accepting. “You ask, why happy?” he looked at Charles, and smiled. The tips of Charles’s ears went pink.

Logan snorted a quick laugh. Phil blinked.  
“Happy because here is safe. Is home. Is...” Erik said, eventually. “No taking.”  
“Nobody gets taken away?” Phil said. Erik nodded. The woman made more scribbly notes. Erik frowned at her. She was more interested in the answers than anything; she reminded him a bit of some of the techs.  
“Erik will live with us as long as he likes.” Charles said, softly. “I promised him.”  
“Yes… if this is the best place for him.” The woman said, doubtfully and Erik felt the cold squeeze of panic. Phil frowned at her.

“Staying here.” Erik said, firmly. “No more labs.”  
“No more labs.” Phil said, and gave them all a firm nod. The woman scribbled some more notes.  
“Of course not.” She said, and reached for a bundle of papers. “Erik, how well can you read and write?”  
“Read easy. Write not so well.” Erik said. “Practicing.” He caught her surprised look. “Sir- Shaw did not like his subjects able to read.” He said, crisply. “Or write.”  
“Oh.” She said, blankly. “I have- these are tests for-

 _“No.”_ Erik said, pushing away from the table. “No tests, please, no-“Charles put a hand on his wrist before he could bolt for the door, and wrapped his panicked terror with warm reassurance and calm. Erik gulped in a breath and sat.  
“Erik.” Charles said, quietly. “You are safe here.” He fixed the nameless woman with a stern look. She glanced aside.  
“S’right, bub.” Logan said, and he moved from his chair at the back of the room to lean on Erik’s shoulder. “Lady used the wrong word, is all.” He fixed her with a warning glare. “Just a list of questions, right?” 

Erik breathed out, and wished he could hold Charles’s hand. Logan’s steady presence behind him helped. The woman looked annoyed.  
“That’s right.” Phil said. “If writing’s tricky, I can always write down what you want me to say.” He tugged the papers from his colleague’s grasp and flicked through them. He frowned slightly.  
“But a lot of these aren’t useful right now- we can go over them later, maybe.” He set the papers down, and folded his arms over them.

“O-ok.” Erik said, and pulled his chair back to the table. “What…” he trailed off, and looked at the tabletop.  
“There’s a bunch of things people know; from just living in the world.” Phil said, quietly. “Things that they need to know, to look after themselves, or others.” Erik nodded.  
“Like how children get made and, and cooking and money and what red-yellow-green lights mean.” Phil nodded.  
“Because of what happened to you, Erik, we don’t know what you don’t know, and might like to learn.” He tapped the papers. “Answering these would help us figure out what lessons you might need.”

“Charles knows.” Erik said, quickly. “Almost everything.” He looked at Charles hopefully, who smiled and bit his lip.  
“Ah- not quite; Erik, and you learn so fast I don’t always know what we haven’t covered yet-“  
“Also, Mr Xavier is not an approved teacher for our purposes.” The woman said, eyeing him coolly.  
“ _Doctor_ Xavier.” Logan rumbled, above Erik. “An’ why are we supposed to care about your purposes, again, Lady?”  
“My department is not convinced this… school is the best environment for someone with Erik’s issues.” She said, crisply. “Not to mention the children’s safety is also a concern.”

“Issues? Safety?” Erik said. The woman did not look at him directly. Charles sat up. Phil looked pained. She kept talking.  
“A residential home with dedicated support workers-“ she broke off, and started again. “Surely you can see that’s a far more appropriate environment to manage a person as damaged as Erik, Doctor Xavier? You must think of the School-”  
“No.” Erik said, terror in his throat again. “Not going away.” Charles reached out for him, without looking. Erik gripped hard and tried to breathe. Logan put a hand on his shoulder.

“I can assure you, Ms- Ashleigh, wasn’t it?” Charles said, ice in every syllable. “That I am more than aware of any threat to my school or my family, and can take adequate measures.” The woman went a little pale. Charles kept talking, voice like iron.  
“Please tell Doctor Essex that we still do not agree on what counts as an appropriate environment for vulnerable people.” He leant forwards, still holding Erik’s hand.  
“I- The department also licenses your school-“ she said. Phil looked at her, and moved his chair away. Erik gave him a careful look; Phil smiled back, gently.

“Now that.” Charles said, sharply. “Sounded like a threat. Was it one, Ms Ashleigh?” He tilted his head, earnestly. “I do hope not.” Charles said, warmly, after a brief pause. “Because I know I can afford any number of lawyers and so on, but I doubt the Department for-“  
“No.” she snapped. “No, it wasn’t a threat.” She gave an angry sigh. “Fine. Don’t co-operate with us-“  
“Actually, Liz, I think they’re not co-operating with you.” Phil said. “And I think they’re right, and I’ll say so, wherever and whenever needed.” 

She glared at him. Erik worried. He didn’t want Phil to be in trouble. Phil was… well, he seemed like he might be nice.  
“Loudly.” Phil added, cheerfully, and moved to pull rest of the sheaf of papers from under her arm.  
“Thank you.” Charles said. Phil glanced at him.  
“No need, Doctor Xavier.” He said, mildly. “This is my job.” He set about half the papers aside, and looked at Erik, who did his best not to twitch.  
“Erik.” he said, and it was as if they were alone in the room. Erik nodded.

“Really, Phil-“ Ms Ashleigh said. “It’s obvious he won’t be able-“ Phil cut her off with a look.  
“I’ll see you in the car, Liz.” He said, pointedly.  
“Or I would be delighted to offer you a lift or call you a cab.” Charles said, sweetly. Frustrated, Ms Ashleigh rose and stomped out of the room, without saying goodbye. Logan squeezed Erik’s shoulder one more time and wheeled to follow her.  
“I’ll call her a cab.” Hr growled over his shoulder, ambling out after his chosen prey.

 

Phil turned back to Erik.  
“I can work with you, if you’d like, find out some of what you need to know, and maybe help you learn.” Erik breathed in. Phil kept talking. “Also, you’ve- you’ve been through a lot.” Erik nodded. He knew.  
“Sometimes when that happens, people find it gets easier if they talk about it.” Phil sounded very gentle.  
“Charles said.” Erik said. Phil nodded.  
“Yes. And I do that, for people, too.”  
“Talk with them?” Erik said, wary. 

Phil half smiled.  
“Mostly listen. Some people say it’s easier talking to someone outside of their family about bad things that have happened to them.”  
“Huh.” Erik said. Charles squeezed his hand tighter. “I don’t know.” He said, slowly. “Don’t know.”  
“Would you like to learn?” Phil said, very gently.  
“From you?” Erik said, warily.  
“From anyone.” Phil said. “I’d be honoured, if you felt you could learn from me, but-“

“You’re ok.” Erik said. “So far.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice cream. Parks. Erik has a lot to learn. So does Anne-Marie. Phil helps with that.

The ice cream shop was strange. It was cool after the heat, and the inside lighting was different to the sun outside. Erik squinted, trying to read the menu board. There were so many flavours. He looked doubtfully at the chilled bright colours displayed under glass. The display counter reminded him of the cold stores back in the labs. He bit his lip and took a deep breath. He could do this. He had done it before. And he wasn’t alone. The counter attendant bustled up and offered him a mechanical smile.

“One vanilla, one chocolate and one strawberry, please.” Erik said, carefully. The woman behind the counter gave him a worried smile. Anne-Marie stared at her, flatly, as Erik carefully counted out his exact money and offered it to her, anxiously. She took the money and turned to the ice cream. Erik shot Anne Marie a smile.  
“Do you want any chopped nuts, whipped cream, or hot sauces, sir?” the woman said. Anne-Marie leant into Erik as he twitched. She gave the counter woman another long look.  
“no.” Erik said, small, and then cleared his throat. “No thank you.” He said, a little more loudly.

Ice creams bought, they strolled back to where Phil was waiting by his car. This was the first time he had actually not come with them when Erik picked something out and then bought it, all by himself. Still, nothing had gone very wrong, Erik thought. He’d been afraid, at one point, but Anne-Marie had been there. And the ice cream was worth it.  
“Thank you.” Erik said, to Anne Marie. “Practicing not same.” She laughed, a little.  
“It never is. But you’re getting really good at it.” She patted his arm.

Erik licked his ice cream hastily as they approached Phil. He offered them a small, eye-crinkled smile.   
“Well?” Phil held out his hand for the third ice cream.  
“Cold chocolate not same as hot.” Erik said, gravely. “But good.” He added, quickly.   
“Walk with me.” Phil said, and led them off towards a tidy area of green Erik had recently learnt to call a park.

“So.” Phil said, as they walked. “You’re getting the idea of buying things. How do you feel about that?”  
“He did really well.” Anne Marie said, and took Erik’s hand. Her gloves itched.  
“She called me sir.” Erik said. He shook his head. “Don’t like that.”  
“That word has a lot of associations for you.” Phil said, quietly. Erik nodded.  
“His name.” was all he said. He shivered. Phil put a hand on the back of Erik’s neck and spoke to him, quietly.

Anne Marie licked her ice cream and glared at the people giving them odd looks. So what if they were two grown men and a teenaged girl? People didn’t know shit. Erik was a good person, Phil was his therapist- and she was a friend. Erik had a load of problems, but he was working through them. With ice cream.  
“Ah, Anne Marie- you know you can’t kill people by looking at them?” Phil said.  
“’M working on it.” She mumbled. Erik gave her an odd look.  
“Why?” he said, bluntly.  
“They’re _looking_.” She said, and glared at her feet.

“Can ask… can ask them to stop?” Erik said, hesitantly.  
“Yes, some of them are staring at us. We’re a little atypical for Westchester, as a group.” Phil said, calmly. “Some people disapprove of what they don’t understand.” He sighed. “Just like some people use words like “Sir” as a greeting because they think it’s polite.” Erik flinched. “A good way of dealing with them is ignoring them, at this level.” Phil went on to say.  
“Ignore?” Erik was dubious.  
“Not being Charles, we don’t know what they’re actually thinking just yet.” Phil said. “And even if we did, thoughts are one thing; actions another.”

“Saying sir is an action.” Erik pointed out.   
“He’s dead, Erik.” Phil said, gently. “People who say that word around you now don’t know him.” Erik gave him a jerky nod.  
“Still alive in my head.” Erik said. “In my memories.” With his free hand he pulled at his hair. It was still short, thanks to the tech who’d shaved him when he’d been re-captured; but it was re growing. Anne Marie bit her lip, and glanced at Phil hopefully.   
“Well, then. We’ll kill him inside your head, too.” Phil said, softly and calmly. Erik stared at him.  
“How?” he said. “Charles won’t. Says must not meddle in heads. Risky.”

Phil grimaced, slightly.  
“That’s what this is about, you know.” He went on. “All this going outside the mansion, buying things, and so on- you’re killing the effects of what he did to you.”  
“With ice cream?” Erik said, finishing it.  
“Ice cream and choice. They’re powerful weapons.” Phil said, not quite solemnly.   
“I like it!” Anne Marie laughed.  
“Not hard, buying.” Erik said. “Choosing is hard.” He shrugged. “Especially ice cream.”

“Yeah, but you’re learning to do them anyway.” Phil said, smiling.

Erik finished up his ice cream and looked about for a trashcan. He took Anne Marie’s empty tub, and set off, marching determinedly. Phil looked at his other charge.  
“How are you feeling, Anne-Marie?” She shrugged.  
“Professor says I can stay at his school. The kids there seem ok.” She said, looking at Erik walking away. “It’s better than juvie, or foster parents again.” Phil nodded, and carefully didn’t frown at the lack of enthusiasm Anne-Marie was demonstrating.  
“Just don’t know how long they’ll want me for.” Anne Marie muttered to her shoes. Phil’s eyes narrowed.

“I can help with that.” he said. “Legally, Raven has petitioned to be made your guardian.”   
“Yeah, but she’s blue, they’ll never-“ Her eyes were wide.  
“If that’s what you want, it will happen, Anne-Marie.” She blinked at him. “She’s got the Xavier name and money behind her.” Phil said, reassuringly  
“But why…?”  
“Because you’re a great kid.” She looked sceptical “And the way you took care of Kurt, when they took both of you.”  
“Really?”  
“Really.” She looked away. He decided to leave the matter for now.

“I understand Charles is interested in pressing charges on your behalf, over your, ah- last set of carers’ behaviour. Are you looking forwards to any of that?” Anne Marie shook her head. “Why is that?”  
“They sold me. I, I mean I know they were being paid for me, but- they _sold_ me.” She blinked, angrily. Quietly, Phil handed her a handkerchief. “I don’t want to have to see them or think about them again.”  
“Raven said that Logan and Charles wouldn’t have been able to find Erik so quickly if they hadn’t.” Phil reminded her. “Or if you hadn’t got away.” She shrugged. “Things like that should be noticed.”

“I don’t want to get noticed.” She said, quietly. “I just- what if there’s more labs out there, what if someone else wants-?“  
“The school will come and bring you back.” Phil said. “Assuming Erik, or anyone else lets you get taken in the first place.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.  
“I guess.” Anne Marie said, reluctantly. “School’s ok.” She added. “Even for a dumb-“  
“Not dumb!” Erik snapped, fiercely as he rejoined them. “Just need more learning.” He smiled, a little. “Like me.”

“Neither of you are dumb- uh, stupid.” Phil said, agreeing.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, angst!
> 
> Charles puts his foot in it. Erik retreats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of Erik's past history of sexual trauma, Charles not expressing himslef at all clearly.

Charles groaned, softly. His legs were complaining again. They did that, sometimes, flaring up unpredictably. Right now they both so swollen and painful Charles couldn’t even think about using his leg braces, let alone anything else. He was barely able to wear sweatpants. He’d got to the point where he’d had to take the pain killers with the side effects. Charles hated taking the stronger ones; they made him sleepy and his shields grew a little thinner if he did not concentrate.

But today, Charles had needed them. As a result of which, Raven had taken his classes, for the day, while he wheeled himself to the library, in a vague pretence at research. Charles was determined not to let the day go to waste simply because the sleep had been bad and his legs worse the night before. The library was a good destination.  
“Hello, Erik.” he said, warmly, spotting his favourite refugee curled up in a corner, on the floor, reading intently. Erik looked up and smiled, brightly. The smile faded as he looked at Charles more searchingly.

“Legs hurt.” He said; not a question. He tilted his head and looked Charles over, not-quite-critically.  
“They do indeed.” Charles agreed, ruefully. “I’ve taken my pills, but they-“  
“Pills make you blurry.” Erik said, sympathetic, but nervous. Charles tensed, but the idea of medication no longer seemed to frighten Erik as it used to. Phil had been good for him.  
“Yes.” Charles said, slow and weary. Erik set his book aside and stood.   
“Out of chair?” he suggested, cautiously. “Help.” Charles thought. Stretching out on the couch would be better for his back, but getting back into the chair might be a problem.

“Help.” Erik said, again, softly and Charles knew enough of Erik’s truncated speech patterns to realise the other man was offering, not asking.  
“Yes please.” He said, at last. Erik was getting better at reaching out; and Charles couldn’t deny that he really did need it. Charles wheeled his chair closer to the couch. Erik bent over him. Charles placed his hands around the leaner, taller shoulders and braced himself. Erik’s arms slid under him and lifted, smoothly. Charles bit his lip as Erik carried him the short step to the couch and laid him down. Erik was being as gentle as he could, but still.  
“Sorry.” Erik murmured, and Charles forced his hands to unlock from around his neck.

“I’ll be… alright in a minute.” Charles said, and shifted, briefly, before his left leg let him know what a bad idea that was.  
“Up or down?” Erik said, and Charles blinked at him, slightly fuzzy. “Sitting.” Erik added, after a pause.  
“Oh. Um. Lying down, I think. Could you put your arm out?” Erik did, and Charles pulled himself into position and then laid himself down with a grunt of relief. This was better. At least until his back started to cramp. Erik dropped a blanket on him, pointedly.  
“Thank you, Erik.” Erik smiled. 

“Need to stay warm. Logan said.” He said, sternly. Charles nodded. “Book?” Erik queried.  
“In... in a minute.” Charles said, blinking. “I just need to”- he opened his eyes again, quickly.  
“Rest.” Erik said, quietly. “Find you book later.”  
“Yes, exactly.” Charles said. “Just for a little while.” Erik smiled at him, and crossed to pick up the book he’d left on the floor when Charles wheeled himself in. Charles smiled to himself, slightly mistily. Sharing the library was nice. Erik looked up, and padded back to Charles’s couch.  
“What’re you reading?”

“Sunshine.” Erik said, and held the book up. A white-planked house and a tree, in darkness. Charles couldn’t remember it, but it looked like something Raven would approve of.  
“Is it..”  
“It’s good.” Erik said. “She fights vampires and bakes cakes.”   
“That does sound good.” Charles let his eyes close.  
“Talks funny, though.” Erik added. Charles nodded. From the sounds of things, Erik was settling back down to sit by the couch, on the floor.  
“You don’t- there are chairs.” Charles said, slowly.

 

“Know.” Erik said, and leant against the couch, carefully. Erik’s head was near Charles’ knee, he noticed, vaguely. He put out a hand and tapped Erik’s shoulder. Erik turned his head and smiled.   
“Like the floor. Rugs.” he added, reassuringly. Charles didn’t say anything to that. It was important that Erik feel comfortable, too. Charles had to admit, selfishly, that it was nice; not being alone with his pain. Erik opened his book again.  
“Could read aloud?” he offered. Charles shook his head slightly.

“You’d need to go back to the beginning. I’m fine, Erik, honestly. You don’t need to entertain me.”   
“Okay.” Erik said softly, and turned a page. Charles listened in for a while. The audible scrape and flutter of pages and the hum of Erik’s mind detangling the prose formed a comfortable, half telepathic white noise that was... very soothing. He relaxed more as his body adjusted to his new, more comfortable position, and let himself drift. With Erik’s presence a beacon at his side, it was safe enough. He wouldn’t go too far. Charles drifted, leaving the pain in his legs behind. 

He drifted into a shallow sleep that became deeper as Erik read on.

Charles woke slowly. He felt more rested, and his back had yet to start complaining about his position. It was extremely nice to be so lazy, just lying there, not thinking of anything much. He wasn’t in much pain, he was warm, and there was someone nearby, but they were not thinking of much, either, possibly just dozing... Charles’ hand was resting on something warm and soft; idly, he let his fingers investigate, petting and stroking. Bristly, smooth…  
“Hhhrrrmmm.” Erik said, happily, and Charles opened his eyes.

Charles snatched his hand back, but in his heart, he knew it was already too late. He’d been stroking Erik’s head, where it was resting against the couch. Playing with his hair, as if he was a _pet_ or a toy, something Charles could just touch, without asking; and after he’d tried _so hard_ to not let Erik know how he felt about sometimes. Erik was- he didn’t deserve that, having to put up with Charles’s affections while he grew and healed. Charles was supposed to be the responsible one. 

Erik had endured so much already. Erik frowned. Charles tensed  
“I am so sorry.” Charles said, levelly, and Erik looked more puzzled still.  
“What?” he said, wary now, and Charles’ heart hurt to look at him.  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t ask.” Charles said, and scrambled to sit up.  
“Said you should rest.” Erik said, cautiously.

“No I- I touched you, I’m sorry, I-“ Charles felt sick. He wasn’t going to be the next in a line to exploit Erik’s vulnerabilities. He was not going to hurt him like that.  
“Touched me earlier when lifted you.” Erik pointed out. Charles smiled in apology.  
“Yes but not… that’s a different touch.”  
“Not on list.” Erik said, cryptically, and then shyly. “Liked it.” Charles winced.  
“Yes but… Erik, you know you know before, bad things, people… touched you, and you didn’t like it?” Charles said carefully.

“Not you.” Erik said, worried now. He swung round, staring at Charles, bony hands clenched together. “Not you.” He insisted.  
“I don’t… I’m not like that.” Charles said, hastly. “You’re safe here.”  
“ _I know that!_ ” Erik said, sharp, and frightened, and Charles felt worse.  
“Erik.” Charles said, breathing in, slowly. “I shouldn’t have done that. Not without asking you. I’m so sorry.”  
“Why?” Erik said, bewildered and hurt.  
“Look, I don’t- they people who hurt you; they were, were terrible, bad, people, disgusting, and I don’t want to be like them.” Charles said, rapidly. Erik froze.  
“Oh.” He said, faintly. “Oh.”

He shuffled backwards, out of touching range.   
“Understand.” He said, chokingly. He wouldn’t look at Charles.  
“Erik?” Charles said. Waves of grief and pain were pouring off Erik now; what had he done?  
Erik shuffled away further, and got to his feet. He swallowed, harshly, and blinked.   
“Erik, are you-?” Charles said, worriedly. He had said the wrong thing, somehow; he needed to fix this, make Erik realise that-  
“Sorry.” Erik whispered, a look of despair on his face, as he retreated to the door. “Sorry, Charles.” 

“Erik, wait-“ Charles said, but it was too late. Erik was gone.

“ _Shit._.” Charles thought with some intensity. He didn’t know quite what Erik had misheard Charles as saying; but it had upset him. He glared at his wheelchair, and began the painful process of hauling himself into it.  
 _=Logan=?_  
 _=?=_ Logan responded. He was bent over his motorbike, fiddling with something.  
. _=Find Erik. I said something, don’t know what, and-=._  
. _=Kid’s gone walkabout?=_ Logan sounded patient, and a little amused. Charles bit back a desire to shout at him that this was serious. _= Got it, prof. He usually heads for the wood shed._

Charles hoped Logan was right. Erik had looked so _hurt._

“Shit.” He said, again, out loud.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is sad. Charles isn't quite sure why. Logan thinks Charles is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Re abuse and how it can mess with your head.
> 
> Erik has some misunderstandings going on here; which partially stem from his past abuse. Charles doesn't want to take advantage of him; Erik thinks Charles is, instead, disgusted by Erik,. since bad things happened to him.
> 
> Charles needs a boot in the head; Erik needs hugs. These are things that do not happen this chapter. Sorry.

Erik tucked himself into the wardrobe, curling up tightly. The attics were quiet and full of dust and odd metal buts. He liked them. Usually. Now, it was hard to say if he liked anything. Charles' words still echoed inside. Charles had touched him; but hadn't meant to. Charles hadn't wanted to touch him; because touching Erik, after everyone else had, was disgusting, he said. Erik bit his lip and curled up smaller. He was disgusting. To Charles, to his sandwich man, Erik was disgusting. He shivered. 

Very quietly, at the back of his mind, Erik buried the timid hopes he had nurtured, that Charles would ever want to touch him, want him like Erik felt he might want Charles. It has been a hope that had flourished more and more since being rescued for the second time. He crushed it under the bad memories, the sadness. It had been a stupid dream, anyway, he thought, dully. No one would want him, want to touch him like that. Not ever, unless he didn't tell them about the labs and the techs and that would be lying. And they'd find out.

Erik had hated it; before, the labs, the techs, the touching then – it had hurt, most of it.   
Erik hadn't _wanted_ any of it. That that was what made him disgusting... It wasn't fair. It was painful to realise, but not- in some way- much of a surprise. Bitterly Erik wondered why Charles had ever touched or fed and comforted him at all. _He didn't know_ he reminded himself. Not until Erik had told Logan. And he'd never- none of them had ever _told_ Erik. None of them had said anything about it. Except Logan; and _he'd_ said as long as both people liked the touching, it was all right. Erik took a deep, shuddering breath. He didn't understand. 

Why, why had they allowed Erik in, kept him- rescued him when Shaw took him again- if they all thought he was disgusting? Some words of Phil's floated back to him, and he took another deep breath, and another, and counted. The anger and grief subsided a little. Charles had only said he was disgusted by touching Erik, not that everyone was. And disgust- it wasn't dislike, not properly. It wasn't as if they _hated_ him. Raven had said he was family; and she let him spend time with Kurt; she wouldn't do that if she didn't like him. Erik began to feel a little better. 

An idea occurred to him. Maybe he could find ways of not disgusting people? Or being not as disgusting. Phil might know. He could ask him. It would only be polite. He owed Charles, Charles' school- he owed them so much. He owed them _trying_ to be less horrible.  
 _Erik?_ Charles' voice sounded soft and worried, in Erik's head. He stayed where he was. He didn't want to see Charles, and he didn't want Charles to look at him again, not soon.  
 _Erik- are you- you walked away-_ Charles sounded uncertain.  
 _Attic._ Erik said, tiredly. He remembered he'd left Charles alone in the library, and felt another pulse of guilt. 

_Need help?_ He sent, carefully. Speaking inside the head was a kind of touching, as well. It wouldn't do to make Charles uncomfortable about it.  
 _I'm fine._ Charles said; _But, Erik... you feel very sad. What did I- I didn't mean-_  
 _Sorry._ Erik did his best to fold his feelings back inside himself, like he was curled up in the wardrobe. He listened to the blood move, in his ears, and waited for Charles to talk again, if he wanted to. The reply was some time in coming.

 _I didn't mean to upset you._ Charles said, carefully. _I was sleepy, from the pills- I would never had said-”_  
“Better you did.” Erik told his knees, out loud. “Know, now.” He went back to listening to his blood, and thinking of nothing much. He could feel Charles hanging about, outside his head, soft and worried, and sad, for a bit, and then he went, too, leaving Erik to the wardrobe.

Erik stayed there, thinking, for a while. The sharp, angry pain faded into a kind of gentle sadness, eventually. He was still safe, still in the best place, the only home he'd ever had. He was fed, and talked to, and, well, the nice people here- they put up with him. No one wanted to hurt him. He'd never had so much before; and it would be enough, when he set his life now against his life Before. 

He had to learn not want more, that was all.

Over the next few days, Erik did his best to be considerate. He avoided Charles; just in case, and he did his best to be helpful, which made Logan stare at him strangely. He went back to sleeping under the guestroom bed; at least until his first nightmare woke him and he realised Charles might hear and get woken up too. Sleeping in the other people's rooms was not an option any more- Erik didn't want any of them to realise he was disgusting, now he knew it could happen. 

Some trial and sleepless error later, Erik found that the library was far enough away that little nightmares didn't wake anyone, and didn't give him big nightmares. And Charles was in the library a lot during the day, so Erik had stopped going there when people were awake. He could curl up behind the couch, next to the wall and sleep, though, and then even if some one came in at night, they didn't know he was there.

“Erik.” Raven said to him, at one point. “Are you ok?”  
“Am.” Erik said, politely, and stood back to let a small crowd of children run up the stairs. He smiled at Anne-Marie as she shop past in pursuit of Sean.  
“You just seem a bit... quieter. And...” Raven looked down at Kurt.  
“Sorry.” Erik said, hastily. Raven made a face.  
“No, I just- you know my brother's an idiot sometimes?” she said, carefully.

“Professor.” Erik said, sharply.   
“Yeah but that doesn't- he's not all knowing.” Raven said. Erik looked at his feet. The children ran down the stairs again. Anne-Marie peeled off to hook a gloved hand through Erik's arm, and tug him along.   
“Come on, you said you;d watch the next time we played Calvinball!” Erik staggered down a step and looked pleadingly at Raven, until she smiled, and let them go. Gratefully, Erik hurried away.

“Erik, is everything all right?” Charles said, at lunch the next day. Erik blinked at him.  
“Sandwich is tasty.” he said, cautiously. Charles rubbed the skin on his nose.   
“No, I meant, with you, I- you've been out of sight for a bit.” Erik blinked at him.  
“Been here.” he said. “Stuff needs doing?” he added, uncertainly. Further up the table, Logan snorted into his sandwich.  
“Just apologise to him, ya idiot.” He said to his plate. Charles looked irritated.  
“Sorry, Charles.” Erik said, quickly, and got to his feet. He left, hastily leaving half the table staring after him.

Erik skipped dinner, taking some bread and cheese up to his wardrobe in the attic instead. Charles had shown him a whole shelf, of the coldbox, that was full of food anyone could have at any time. Erik didn't usually try it, but people were hard, at the moment. He kept wondering if he was going to disgust someone else, accidentally, or make Charles unhappy again. He could feel it, when Charles realised he wasn't coming down for food, and looked for him, but he just brushed his mind against Erik's and left again. Erik sighed.

The next day, Erik lurked, furtively, by the front door. It was cold, but he wanted to see Phil before he came in the house and talked to people. He smiled as the other man got out of his clean, tidy car.  
“Hello, Erik.” Phil said, with his usual small smile. “How are you today?”  
“Got questions.” Erik said. “Need help.” he added, apologetically. Phil smiled again.  
“Let's see what we can do for you then. You want to talk in the house?”  
“Walk, please.” Erik said.  
“Walk it is, then.” Phil said, agreeably.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes Phil to save the day.
> 
> Thank the LORD.

It was a beautiful day. Phil found himself whistling as his car rolled the final few feet to park itself neatly by the big house. He’d not seen Erik the week before, and (he admitted, privately, to himself) although he liked and respected all of his clients, Erik, if Phil had had favourites, which he did not, would have been Phil’s favourite client. That a man could endure so much, for so long, and still have the capacity for friendship, affection, trust- he was a tremendous testament to the human spirit.

Phil’s eyes narrowed and his mood subsided as he spotted something that did not seem to fit into the mansion’s architectural themes, on the steps. A smallish grey-clad lump that resolved, as Phil drew nearer, and the lump unfolded, into an unhappy-looking Erik , shuffling from foot to foot. Phil waved, and Erik gestured, stiltedly, in return. That was not good. Normally Erik stood tall, made huge, extravagant gestures of welcome, and smiled. Something was wrong. Phil was a little worried. It was clear something was bothering Erik. 

The man’s shoulders were rounded, hunched as he tried to make himself smaller. He’d been waiting outside for Phil’s arrival, too, and normally-  
 _-Phil. I need to talk to you, about Erik-_ Charles said, slightly hesitantly. Erik didn’t react; normally when Charles spoke to them telepathically, he smiled. Phil frowned. Erik took the path that would take them through the rose garden and up to the lake. Phil followed him.  
 _-Please tell me you are talking to Erik as well right now.-_ Phil sent back, promptly. _-He’s not looking happy.-_

 _-Ah, well-_ Charles said _This is-_  
 _-No.-_ Phil sent, calmly. _-I will not talk about my client like this. I’m happy to discuss any aspect of Erik’s case with you, after my session, or talk to both of you, now, if Erik is agreeable, but I’m not going to discuss him in front of his face like this.-_ Charles flashed apology at him and withdrew. Now Phil was really intrigued. Erik was staring at the roses intently. He put out a finger and touched one, timidly.  
“Erik.” Phil said, softly. Immediately, Erik swung to look at him, more wary than had been for some time. “How are things?”  
“Yes.” Erik muttered, looking away. He poked the rose again. 

“Yes?” Phil said, back, inspecting the rose next to Erik’s. Erik wasn’t always keen on direct eye contact and face to face conversations. It was one of the reasons he seemed to like walking during their sessions. Phil liked it, when the weather was fine.  
“Phil.” Erik said, slowly. “Have question.” He shifted from foot to foot, and looked at the house uneasily. Phil’s gut clenched. This was the first time he’d really seen Erik fret about the house and potential observers in a long time.

“Shall we walk on while we talk?” Phil said. Erik turned and paced forwards, silently. The gravel crunched under their feet as the moved from the rose garden.  
“How long.” Erik said, almost tonelessly, after a pause.  
“How long until what, please, Erik?” Phil said, slightly puzzled.  
“How- when will it be over?” Erik said, striding ahead as the ground began to rise up towards the lake. Phil lengthened his pace to keep up, blinking. He could not be certain he understood what Erik was asking.

“This session-“ Phil started, carefully. Erik cut across him, something he’d only started being able to do recently. Phil tucked away that point, and paid attention.  
“Not session” Erik said, and paused again, before looking away.”When will what happened, be over?” Erik said. Phil hmmed, thoughtfully. They turned left, and the trees opened up to revela the long glittering silver of the lake beyons.  
“That’s a tricky one.” He said, keeping Erik in the corner of his eye as the both moved. “Do you mean the kidnapping, or-“

“Labs. Touching.” Erik said, flushing. “Want it _over._ ” he added, savagely. Alarm bells started ringing in Phil’s mind.  
“Are- is that kind of touching still happening, Erik?” Phil said, very carefully. “The bad touching?” Erik sagged. He shook his head, and Phil relaxed, minutely.“No touching at all.” He said, mournfully. “Disgusting.” He added, more sadly. Phil rubbed his forehead. Erik’s speech was sometimes tricky to follow, and he tended to truncate his sentences even more when he felt very strongly about something.

“Can you tell me what is disgusting, please, Erik?” Erik stopped walking, and turned to him, startled. He mumbled something indistinct. Try as he might, Phil couldn’t interpret it, and he didn’t want to risk making an assumption. He took a breath, let it out and said:  
“Could you say that again, Erik? I didn’t-“  
“ME!” Erik half shouted at him, eyes wet. “Because of the touching.” He scrubbed away his tears furiously. Phil’s jaw dropped. “Want it to be over.” Erik said, again. 

“Want to stop being disgusting. To Charles. To everyone.” He kicked at the grass.  
“Erik.” Phil said. He knew what Charles had wanted to talk about now, oh yes. “You are not now, and have never been, disgusting.” Erik stared at him. “Do you understand?” Phil pressed, gently. Erik kept staring. “Has someone been saying that?” Phil said. Erik looked away, into the restless lake waters, jamming his hands under his arms. Phil took a careful half breath.

“Nothing anyone did to you is your fault, Erik, and _none_ of it makes you disgusting.” Phil said, firmly. He put his hand on Erik’s shoulder. Erik didn’t flinch away from it. “You survived so much; that makes you strong, not disgusting.” Phil said. Erik looked at him sceptically, unfolding his arms. “Has someone been saying differently? They’re wrong.” Phil said, with absolute certainty. He breathed in, and added. “Your strength in enduring, and escaping, and surviving, _twice_ , makes you admirable, Erik. Truly.”

“Tell _him_ that.” Erik muttered, sullenly. “Charles-“ he stopped, and pressed his lips together. Phil had to stop his knee-jerk reaction to that. He looked at the lake for a moment.  
“Erik.” he said, softly. “Did someone say- what did Charles say about it?” Erik looked utterly miserable. Phil squeezed his shoulder tightly, and Erik looked at Phil’s hand on him, before starting to talk.  
“He. He fell asleep. In library. When he- before he woke; started touching my hair. Liked it.” Erik said, reassuringly, seeing Phil’s expression change. “When he woke; he said sorry. Said, after people touching me… disgusting.” 

Phil mentally cursed Charles Xavier and his-foot-in-mouth-moments to the ninth circle of literary hell. The man was a telepath; how had he managed to muck this up so?  
“Right.” Phil said, aloud. “Now. You said “Tell him.” Erik looked worried. “I can do that for you; what do you need me to say to Charles?”  
“That.” Erik said, after a long pause. “About not, not being… About being strong.” Phil nodded, briskly.   
“I can do that. Do you want to be there when I-” Erik shook his head, frantically.   
“No.” he said. “Don’t, don’t… he might argue.” _You might agree with him_ he thought.  
“Not about that, he won’t.” Phil said. 

“But that’s fine. I’ll talk to him later today.” Erik smiled crookedly. They both looked at the lake for a moment. Erik crouched at dabbled his fingers in the chill lake waters. Phil watched him for a moment, and then crouched companionably next to him. Erik flashed him a quick, faint smile. Phil tilted his head in acknowledgement.  
“Now, however.” Phil said, gently. “I need you to say something for me.”   
“Can try.” Erik looked wary again. Phil stood, and Erik followed, shaking the water off his hands.

Phil put both his hands on Erik’s shoulders, and looked at him. Erik peered back, uncertainly.  
“I am not disgusting.” Phil said. Erik nodded. “Can you say that for me, Erik? And try to believe it?” Erik blinked.  
“I.” he said, and stopped. “I.” paused again.  
“Am not disgusting.” Phil prompted him, softly.  
“Am not.” Erik said, slowly, agreeing.   
“Again, please.” Phil said. “Please. Erik.” he added as the other man faltered.

Erik gulped, and then opened his mouth.  
“I am not disgusting.” He said, firmly and loudly.   
Phil hugged him. Erik twitched, briefly, and then stood still. Slowly, Erik wrapped his arms round Phil’s shoulders.  
“Who are you?” Phil said, smiling, as he backed off a little.  
“Erik.” said Erik, puzzled. “You know that.”  
“And what _aren’t_ you, Erik?” Phil said, and Erik began to smile, just a little.

“Disgusting.” He said, more firmly. “Am not disgusting.”  
“That’s right.” Phil said. He turned, and the stone under his foot shifted. Phil wavered, and would have fallen, but for Erik’s firm hand under his shoulder, holding him.  
“See?” Phil said. “I said you were strong.” Erik gave him a shy smile. “Thank you, Erik.”  
“Don’t always _feel_ it.” Erik said.  
“It’s hard, sometimes.” Phil said, agreeing. “Shall we walk on? Where do you want to go next?”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles talks. Phil talks. There's a lot of talking in this one.

The house loomed up in front of them as they retraced their path at the end of the session. Phil looked at Erik carefully. He still looked tired, and not a little strained, but he seemed happier. Phil hoped the message; about Erik’s strength and the fact that he was not disgusting, had sunk in. Well, he’d happily reinforce it every session, if that was necessary. At least he knew what the problem was. Phil took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, trying to centre himself.

“Talking to Charles now?” Erik looked half-hopeful, half terrified, shifting from foot to foot. Phil smiled.  
“Sure.” He looked at Erik carefully. “You certain you don’t want to be there?” Erik nodded.  
“Don’t.” he said, firmly. “You better with words.”   
“Well, if you’re certain.” Phil said, softly. “I’m sure Charles wouldn’t mind if you just listened in. Erik shook his head. “Charles doesn’t listen in.” he tapped his temple, mimicking the telepath. “So don’t want to either.” He concluded. Phil nodded.

Erik slipped away as they walked inside, and Phil let him go. He had clearly expressed both a desire for Phil to speak on his behalf to Charles, and a desire to not be present, so Phil simply smiled and waited for Charles to contact him.  
 _Phil?_  
 _I’d like to talk to you-_  
 _Of course._ Charles felt relieved and anxious simultaneously. Phil twitched. _I’m in the library. Can I offer you tea or-_

“I’m fine, thank you.” Phil said, popping his head around the door. Charles looked up from the desk his wheelchair was situated at and gave the counsellor a worried smile. Phil noted the presence of the wheel chair with an internal frown; it meant that Charles’s legs had flared up again, to the point where he wasn’t able to use leg braces. He made a note to be aware that Charles’s pain levels might well be spiking.  
“I’ll just- we can sit over here.” Charles said, wheeling himself towards a set of upright chairs. Phil followed him.

“Now.” Charles said, perhaps a little too brightly. “About Erik.” Phil let the silence hand for a moment. Charles started talking again.  
“He’s- for the last week; he’s not been happy.” Charles said. Phil nodded. “He’s been avoiding me- us- somewhat, and he’s been withdrawn, quiet, when he is among us.”  
“Do you know where he goes when he’s not-“  
“Up in the attics, or outside, and usually- he’s stayed away from here-“ Charles waved a hand, indicating the library- “Almost completely.”

Phil nodded, thoughtfully. “Apart from avoiding people, has he displayed any other behaviours that make any of you concerned?”  
“He’s been skipping meals.” Charles said, worriedly.   
“Erik usually likes eating in a group.” Phil said, neutrally. Charles nodded.  
“He knows there’s a shelf of food, just for him, which he can eat whenever and however he likes; that’s been emptying faster, so at least he’s not starving himself, but still.”

Phil dipped his head in a nod, and took a moment to gather his thoughts.  
“Erik and I talked today; and he agreed- asked me- in fact to talk to you about where he is, right now.” Phil said, quietly, and Charles nodded. “Otherwise-“  
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation, yes, I know confidentiality matters to you.” Charles said, warmly. Phil nodded, and breathed in.  
“Could you explain to me why it might be that Erik thinks you find or believe him to be disgusting?” he said, bluntly.

Charles went white. Phil blinked. He hadn’t been expecting so extreme a reaction, so fast.  
“But- I don’t- I would _never_ -“ he blurted, horrified. He stared at Phil in horror.  
“I don’t think you would intend to.” Phil said, with a nod, “But Erik not only thinks that, but he was agreeing with what he thought you said.” He tried to keep his voice and demeanour calm, but a memory of Erik’s stricken face; as he appealed for help in being less disgusting to others, flashed across his mind. Charles was normally good about respecting boundaries; but Phil could tell he’d caught that one by the way he winced.

“Phil.” Charles said, and blinked. “I don’t- I knew he was… unhappy, but I don’t, I didn’t think it was-“  
“You didn’t think it was because of something you’d done?” Phil said, softly. Charles bit his lip, and shook his head. Phil leaned forwards.  
“He said, something about the library; and getting his head stroked, but-“  
“Oh no.” Charles said. “Oh, no, no I didn’t- I did not mean that.” He said, vehemently. “Please, you have to believe that.”  
“It’s not me you need to convince.” Phil pointed out, and Charles looked miserable.

“I was trying to tell him that he was safe, with me. “ He said, quietly, shifting in the wheelchair. “That I wouldn’t take advantage.” Charles breathed in. “I’ve had a couple of flare ups, recently.”  
“I’m aware.” Phil said. Charles looked away.  
“ I- the painkillers, the strongest ones make me sleepy. I forgot.”  
“Forgot?” Phil said, calmly, prompting.  
“That it was Erik, there.” Charles smiled, thinly. “I touched him, accidentally.” Phil raised an eyebrow. Charles looked down at his feet. 

“I played with his hair.” He volunteered. Phil said nothing, and after a pause, Charles continued. I wanted him to know I didn’t want to hurt him like the people in his past did. I tried to- to explain that.”  
“He already knew you weren’t going to do that.” Phil said. Charles looked away.  
“No, instead I hurt him in an entirely new way; I’m sure that’s much better.” His tone was bitter, critical.

“Everybody screws up, from time to time.” Phil said. “You used words or phrases that weren’t helpful; Erik misinterpreted them. He’ll understand that, and I assume you’re going to talk to him?” Charles looked no happier.  
“Oh, yes, as soon as I can. I- I tried, not to enter his mind, I wanted- hoped- he could come and talk to me about what was making him unhappy.” Phil nodded.  
“I can see how that would seem like a good thing to do.” He said, neutrally. “Except in this case, where he wasn’t ever going to want you to know.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Charles said, staring at his hands. “I’ll explain, make him see I used the wrong words, that I didn’t- I don’t-“ he broke off. “There is not one thing about Erik that he should feel ashamed of. Not _one_ ” Phil nodded.  
“That sounds like a good place to start.” Charles glanced at him, quickly.  
“Start?”  
“One of the things I have noticed, about Erik, is how much your regard, your affection, matters to him.”

“I know.” Charles said. “I’ve been trying… trying to help it matter less.”  
“Have you?” Phil said, calmly. Charles tilted his head. “Can I ask why?”   
“Of course.” Charles said, firmly. “It’s not healthy, for Erik to care so much what I-“  
“He loves you.” Phil said. “And not in the way that he loves anyone else he knows. But is that unhealthy? You care for him, you don’t want to hurt him.”  
“It will pass.” Charles said. “I’m not- he doesn’t know any b- anyone-“ He looked away. “I know it seems a little, um, self protective, but, I- it will be easier, for me.”

“Easier?” Phil said, puzzled.  
“When- if he wants to leave.” Charles said, very quietly. “I’m not a fool. Erik has affection for me, yes, but it’s only- as he grows, he’ll grow out of it. And I’m not really able- “  
“I think you might not be a fool, but you _are_ veering close to being foolish, Dr Xavier.” Phil said, crisply. Charles stared at him. “Erik is a grown man; we think he’s over thirty.”  
“Yes, but-“  
“It’s easy, with people have been so badly hurt by life, like Erik, who have trouble expressing themselves, as Erik does, to treat them like children.” Phil said. “I see more of it than you’d think, in my job.”

Charles flushed. “Are you saying I _should_ take advantage of-“  
“I’m saying that you should not make Erik’s decisions for him.” Phil said, imperturbably. “If you don’t want that kind of a relationship, for whatever reason, tell him so. Don’t hide behind the idea that you’re abstaining for his own good, when you’re the one afraid of being hurt.” Charles gaped.  
“For what it’s worth.” Phil added, gently. “I would not be saying this if I thought you actually would deliberately hurt or exploit him.”

“Thank you for that.” Charles said, dryly. Phil gave him a small half smile.  
“Also, there is nowhere, on this or any other planet that would hide you, or anyone at your school, from my wrath if I thought were exploiting or wilfully harming Erik.” he said, leaning forwards. “Nowhere that would be safe from my staff’s actions on Erik’s behalf, either.”  
“Ah.” Charles said, slightly quelled. Phil smiled at him again.  
“But as you and yours are all extremely fond of Erik; and he’s mostly happy here, we don’t have to deal with that right now, do we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, I have to go to the dentist and get a filling soon. Don't wanna!
> 
> *wails*


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles prepares himself for a huge apology, and Erik thinks Charles may have something wrong with his brain.

_-Erik-_ Charles said, softly, into Erik’s head, later that day. _-I need- I would like to say something to you.-_ Erik froze, hope and dread mingling in his gut. _-Please?_ Charles added, entreating. Erik shook himself. Charles was begging, and that was- wrong. Charles shouldn’t beg, shouldn’t ever-  
“Where?” he said, aloud, and Charles sent him a picture of the library. Slowly, Erik got to his feet, closed the wardrobe behind him and headed downstairs, with dragging footsteps. He edged into the library slowly, warily, like a beaten child, fearing more punishment. 

_No, not a child._ Charles reminded himself, sharply, looking up from his wheelchair as Erik drew slightly closer. _Erik is a man._ His storm coloured eyes were narrow and suspicious, and Charles felt a pang in his chest. He’d done that, put that frightened look back into Erik’s eyes, returned the defensive hunch to Erik’s shoulders. Charles swallowed down shame and guilt, and opened his mouth.  
“Phil talked to me.” Erik nodded. “He said you were unhappy; and it was because of something I had said to you.” Erik nodded again.  
“Asked him to.” He said, carefully.

“I.” Charles said, and stopped, wishing bitterly he could throw himself on the floor and beg for forgiveness he probably didn’t deserve. He swallowed. Erik deserved honesty, and apologies, not Charles’ self indulgence of his shame.  
“You.” Erik said, encouragingly, and drew a little closer.  
“I’m so sorry, Erik, I’m really so very sorry.” Charles said, earnestly, and a dam seemed to break. Charles found himself babbling to Erik’s puzzled face “I never meant for you to- you’re not disgusting, and I didn’t mean that, not at all, and… just. I’m sorry.” 

Charles rubbed his eyes. Erik blinked.  
“But.” He said. “You, you said. Don’t understand. What meant to say?” His voice was plaintive, a little confused. Erik felt a tiny seed of hope begin to grow, in his chest. Perhaps- perhaps-  
“Erik, may I?” Charles twirled his fingers by his head. Erik came two steps closer, and knelt in front of Charles’s wheelchair, almost close enough to touch.  
“Talk in head?” Erik said, aloud, and Charles nodded.  
“I would like to explain, if you’d not mind-“

“Go ahead.” Erik said, and tipped his head to one side, listening intently. Charles took a deep breath.  
 _-I am SO sorry.-_ he said, to Erik, and Erik made a startled noise. He _felt_ Charles’s sorry; it was a deep and lasting regret to him that Erik was unhappy. That was- well, he didn’t want Charles to be unhappy, ever but it was- it was nice that Erik’s feelings made Charles feel things. Even if they weren’t nice things for Charles to feel.  
 _-Ok?-_ he said, carefully, and was washed with another wave of Charles’s self-recrimination. He swayed, a little.

“What I meant was-“ Charles said, aloud, faltering, before switching back to telepathy.  
 _-People hurt you before. Sexually.-_ Charles said. Erik felt Charles’ faint under wash of anger over that and was comforted by it. _-Because you couldn’t fight them, or stop them.-_ Charles continued, in Erik’s head.  
“The techs.” Erik said, and nodded. “Wanted to.” He said, aloud. Charles nodded, and continued.

 _-I didn’t want to be like them.-_ Charles said, into Erik’s head. Erik frowned.  
“Not like them at all.” He pointed out. _-Hair isn’t sex-._ he added, mentally.  
“I did not want to take advantage of you.” Charles said. “I still don’t.” Erik frowned again.  
“Explain?” he said, hopefully.  
 _-Techs were stronger than you.-_ Charles said. Erik snorted.  
“You’re not.” He said, and tapped his head. “Except here.” _\- And you would never use that.-_ he said, mind to mind. Charles nodded.  
 _-No, but- I **know** more than you.-_ A flurry of images darted past before Charles could stop them - Erik’s smile, his hands, his look when he learned new things- Erik blinked. 

Charles started talking faster. _-It’s not fair if I let you settle for the first person who was nice to you; not when you could do better.-_ Erik stared at him. Charles felt himself start to sweat.  
“ **That’s** what I thought was disgusting.” Charles said, aloud. “Taking advantage. Hurting you. Not you. _Never_ you, Erik. You are so- you survived, and you still have the strength to be kind, and to learn, and to grow-“ He shook his head, and squeezed his knees. 

“I couldn’t spoil that for you, I wanted- there’ll be someone who you want to stay with for the rest of your life, and, and I- ” Charles blinked again. His voice was getting scratchy, for some reason. It hurt to say, to put into words, how much Erik deserved from life, and how little Charles deserved to do more than witness it.  
“It was selfish of me, to try and pretend it was for your own good, and stupid of me to not make sure you understood what I meant, but Erik-“ He said, clearly. “I am truly sorry. I never meant you to feel bad; only- if I start touching you I-I won’t want to stop.” He swallowed, and blinked. 

_-I hope you do find that person; someone who you can love; who will spend their lives with you.-_ Charles said, sincerely as he could. _-I- you could do so much better than me, and you will-_ He thought fleetingly of his legs, and the chair, and everything else that could be improved on. He tucked his chin down, and stared at his feet. Something was aching, in his chest. No more than he deserved, really. Erik stared. Still staring, he leant forwards and laid a hand on Charles’s forehead.  
“Not hot.” He said to himself, and started to try and take Charles’ pulse and examine his eyes.

Charles jerked, startled, and Erik stopped.  
“What are you- what are you doing, Erik?” Erik rocked back on his heels and gave Charles a long, slow, look.  
 _-You think I can do **better** than you?-_ Erik said, to him silently, disbelievingly Charles nodded, jerkily. “Brain isn’t working properly.” He said, almost cheerfully. “Checking for fever.”  
“What?” Charles said, and had to blink again. “I don’t understand.”

“See. Brain not working properly.” Erik said. “Should maybe ask Hank?” A corner of his mouth turned up. Charles was afraid Erik would ever stop wanting _him_. Stop liking him. Erik’s sandwich man, his professor, of the beautiful eyes and the clever brain and the lovely eyes was worried about _that._ He was really being very silly.  
“Erik this- this isn’t funny!” Charles said. “I’m just the first person who ever was nice to you!” Erik stared at him again.

 _-First person who was nice to me up close was Alex.-_ He pointed out. _-Gave me a biscuit-._  
“Yes, but-“ Charles said, and found he had run out of words. He stared at Erik, helplessly.  
Even now, in the midst of an intense and important conversation, he couldn’t stop himself wondering what Erik’s skin would taste like, how beautiful his intent expression was, how finely shaped his long, elegant fingers were- Charles snatched his thoughts back, but a flicker on Erik’s face suggested he had not done so fast enough.

“Don’t want _him_ to like touching me. Want you. And you do.” He sounded very pleased about it. “Heard you.” Erik said, and tapped his head. There was a short silence.  
“’M not disgusting.” Erik said, thoughtfully.  
“No.” Charles said, very firmly.  
“Logan said, touching is OK if the person wants it, and wants to touch you back.” Erik said, carefully. “I… I wanted you. To do that.” He blushed, just slightly.  
“Yes. But.” Charles said. “Erik-“ He wanted to say “You shouldn’t” to Erik, but Phil’s words came back to him.

Charles licked his lips. Erik stood then, and Charles stared up at him. He felt a brief stab of hatred for his wheelchair. Erik moved in, very close, and crouched again.  
“Still do.” He breathed, so close, so close to Charles’ mouth. Charles shut his eyes.  
“When you know- when you know more, you’ll want to leave.” He said. Erik blinked.  
“Might want to leave school.” He conceded. “Someday. Travel.”  
“So, you see, I-“ Erik laid a gentle finger on Charles’s lips. Charles went cross-eyed, peering at it.

“Will never want to leave you.” Erik said. “Promise.” He took his finger away. Charles leaned forwards, and winced as his legs flared again.  
“How can you- Erik-“ Charles broke off. _-How can you want **me**? How can you be sure-_ he said. Erik looked at him, wondering  
 _-You really don’t know.-_ He said, slowly. Charles looked at him. There was some more silence. Erik nodded, decisively, to himself.

“Ok.” Erik said, acceptingly. “You don’t know. Is ok.” Charles sagged, a little.  
“Can wait. Will prove it to you.” Erik said, and now, his eyes were twinkling.  
“Um.” Charles said, cautiously. He wasn’t quite sure what, or how, Erik was going to prove it, whatever it was. He reached out, reading Erik’s emotions, but found them to be not a lot of help. Erik was…. Well, he felt amused, but also deeply, _burningly_ joyful, and… intrigued. By Charles. Or Charles’s lips. Charles wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Promise.” Erik said again, gently, and smiled.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik decides he needs advice, in his wooing of Charles, so he goes to a couple of sources.
> 
> Somewhat fluffy.

Erik was in a tiny bit of a quandary. Possibly he was also in a tizzy. He could not be quite certain, even after he re-read the thesaurus Hank had found for him after the book about making babies had made him flustered. But he was feeling uncertain. He had promised Charles that he would convince him he wasn’t going to go away, even if he learnt everything Phil wanted him to. But he was quite sure how to deliver on that promise. He needed advice. Something he wouldn’t find in a book, for once. 

“Hey, Erik.” Raven said, softly. “Everything ok? You look like you’re thinking hard.”  
“Am.” Erik said and shuffled to one side so she could walk down the stairs past him. Raven put down her basket of laundry and sat down next to. Erik blinked at her, and then sidled sideways until their shoulders touched. Raven smiled.  
“Mind telling me what about?” She probed, gently.  
“Charles.” Erik said, carefully. “Promises.” He looked away, running his thumb along the edge of the carpet. 

Raven’s face went through a number of interesting expressions.  
“Um.” She said, carefully. “Has he got his head stuck up his ass again?” Erik frowned at her.  
“Not possible. Charles not bendy enough. Also, head too big.” He reminded her, gently. Raven rolled her eyes, and put a blue hand over Erik’s larger one, stilling his movements for a minute.  
“Believe me, when it comes to my brother and his head, it’s very possible; and don’t try and tell me you didn’t get that was a figure of speech.” Erik grinned at her, shyly. She thumped her shoulder against his, affectionately.

“Know.” He said. “But funny.” He thumped back, gently.  
“Yeah, a real comedian, you are.” Raven said, pleased. “It’s good to see you looking a bit happier. What was up, last week?” Erik shifted, and stared between his knees.   
“Misunderstandings.” He said, and then “Phil helped fix.” He picked at some carpet lint.  
“Good.” Raven said. Erik ruminated for a while. Raven was wise. She was Charles’ brother. Maybe…

“Raven.” He said, and turned his head to look at her. “Can ask question?”  
“Think you just did, ask me a few more.” She said, and Erik leaned towards her again.  
“Charles thinks when know more, will leave.” He said, hastily. “Said wouldn’t. Promised him. How can… want to prove it.” He trailed off. Raven blinked. “Help?”  
“You said Phil fixed this?” Raven said. “How is this fixed?”  
“Thought Charles… everyone… Thought I was disgusting.” Erik mumbled to his knees. Raven’s arm wrapped itself around his shoulders.

“Oh, honey.” She said. “No one could think that about you, Erik.”  
“Know better now. Charles, too. Phil talked.” Erik assured her, smiling. His grin widened. “Know Charles likes me, too.”  
“Oh.” Raven said, carefully. “Good?”  
“Wants to touch me.” Erik said, confidingly. “But afraid I’ll leave.” Raven blinked.  
“Ah.” She said.  
“And I want to touch him, but have to prove won’t leave.” Erik went on. “Help?”  
“Um.” Raven said. “Did you just ask me how to seduce my brother?” Her voice was a little high.

“Didn’t read S in the Thesarus.” Erik said, hunching up. “Just- want to make him happy. Help?” He gazed at Raven, appealingly.  
“Ohgod.” Raven said. “Sure, why not.” She took a deep breath. “Let me think for a sec.” Erik beamed. “Yeah, you could try doing that at him, a few times.”  
“Smiling?” Erik said, confused.  
“You have no idea how it makes you look.” Raven said. “Charles likes it.” She added as Erik frowned, in puzzlement.  
“Oh.” Erik said. 

“Then, you could try touching him more.” Raven said. Erik frowned, sharply.  
“Might not want.” He reminded her. “Touching is-“  
“Yeah, but I don’t mean naked touching, or touching of personal areas.” Raven said. Erik relaxed. “I mean, hugging, holding hands, shoulder pats, that kind of thing.”  
“oh.” Erik said. “They ok? Don’t want to…”  
“Do ‘em slow enough he can see them coming and move away if he doesn’t want it.” Raven said. “Cuddles are good.”

“Cuddles.” Erik nodded, seriously, as he added another word to his vocabulary.   
“Talking is good, too.” Raven said, thoughtfully. “And listening.”  
“About what?” Erik said, still intent. Raven had to bite back a grin; it really wasn’t funny to Erik, but the man was adorable.  
“Whatever the kids have done today, what the weather’s like, Hank’s latest experiment- anything!” Raven said, easily. “Charles loves to listen nearly as much as he loves the sound of his own voice, really.  
“Cuddles. Talking.” Erik said. “What else?”

“Uh. You kinda already do this one, but just. Be there for him. Look after him.” Raven said, gently.  
“Works too hard.” Erik grumbled, and Raven nodded.   
“One of the reasons we love him. But yeah. Make him go to bed earlier, if you can, bring him a drink or a snack if he skips lunch, that kind of thing.”  
“Food. Sleep. Ok.” Erik said, and nodded to himself. “Can do. How long?”  
“Um, well it’s not like a math problem.” Raven said. “As long as, well, whenever.”

Erik looked absurdly pleased.  
“Can keep doing this?” he said. “Allowed?” Raven blinked.  
“Of course you can.” She said. “Unless Charles asks you to stop; you can do all of that as long as you want.”  
“Will want.” Erik assured her. “Will want to for very long time. Maybe forever.”  
“Glad to hear it.” Raven said. “We were hoping you’d stick around forever.”

 

“Logan.” Erik said, happily, leaning the doorway.. Logan didn’t immediately tell him to get out, so Erik knew he was welcome. He wandered into the room. Logan grunted at him, and muted the ice hockey game playing on his TV.   
“You look chipper.” Logan said, and put his unlit cigar down. “What’s up, bub?”  
“Have questions.” Erik said. “Help?”  
“Sure, kid.” Logan said. Then, a little warily. “With what?” He took a sip of his beer.  
“Charles.” Erik said. “Cuddles. Food. Talking. Sleep.”

Logan spat out his beer, choking.  
“You want advice from me about _cuddling?_ ” he said, when he could breathe again. “I don’t do-“  
“Do.” Erik said, serenely. “Kurt. Others, when little.” He added, cheerfully when Logan looked indignant.  
“I don’t cu- fool about with Charlie!” Logan said. “Or-“  
“No. My job.” Erik said, a hard tone edging his voice. “But. Not done it properly before. Need advice.” Logan ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“About cuddling?” he said, plaintively. Erik sat down.  
“You knew about touching, and wanting.” He reminded the other man. Logan nodded.  
“Yeah. I did. And?”  
“And Raven says, to make Charles think not going to leave, need to do cuddles and food and talking and making sure he sleeps.” Erik stared at Logan, hopefully.  
“You want Charlie as your man or your pet?” Logan muttered. Erik frowned. Logan waved his objections away.

“Nah, you’re right, kid- man needs someone to look after that big brain o’ his.” He said. Erik sat up, smiling.  
“So?” he said, hopefully. “How do I-“   
“Give me a minute, kid.” Logan said, hastily. “I gotta think.” Erik waited, patiently.  
“You alright about the touching?” Logan said, eventually. Erik frowned, sharply.  
“I want to touch Charles.” He said, indignant. “And… stuff.”  
“I meant, about Charles touching _you_ ” Logan said, more gently. “Some folks; when they’ve been hurt like you, they-“  
“Charles will never hurt me.” Erik said, fiercely, and then “Not with touching.” He added, a little reluctantly as Logan’s eyebrow went up.

“Well, then.” Logan said. “Make sure he knows that; Charlie’s an odd duck, he might worry about it.”  
“Ok.” Erik said, nodding. “Tell him, like touching, if it’s him.” He looked thoughtful. “Food?” Logan sighed.  
“Yeah; keeping the professor fed might be…. He gets distracted by too many shiny things.”  
“Cooking.” Erik worried. Logan made a face. Erik and cooking were not a good combination.  
“You make a mean sandwich, kid.” Erik brightened.  
“Do?” He said. Logan nodded.   
“Seen you.” He rumbled. “Not too much filling, not too much bread. Good stuff.”

Erik smiled down at his hands.  
“Talking.” He asked next. Logan shook his head.  
“Can’t help you there, bub. Not what I’m best at.” Erik nodded. “Now sleep- most people need six to eight hours in twenty four.” Logan went on. Erik frowned.  
“Charles never-“  
“Well, that’s partly because if he’s still too long, his back and his legs play up, but, yeah, he needs dragging out of the study or the library-“  
“Will make him sleep.” Erik said, solemnly. “Sleep is good.”

An idea occurred to him.  
“Can rub legs if hurt.” He said, thoughtfully. “Would be touching and sleeping, together.  
“Charles is awful sensitive about that.” Logan said. Erik nodded.  
“Thinks makes him less. Silly.” Logan snorted. Erik thought for a bit.  
“But he likes it when ask him for things.” He said. “Makes him happy. So.” And he smiled, widely.

“You are one smart cookie, kid.” Logan said, chuckling. “Charlie isn’t going to know what’s hit him.”  
“No one is hitting Charles when I am here.” Erik said, glaring. “ _No one_ ”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik stalks his prey. He uses tea ninjas, stealth kissing and seductive bathing. 
> 
> It works, folks! 
> 
> ....
> 
> If you're Erik.

“There is a tea ninja in this house.” Charles said, solemnly, to Raven. She stared at him.  
“A tea ninja?”  
“No, really; I look at my papers for five minutes, and when I look up- more tea!” Charles said. “It’s quite pleasant, really.” He set his crutches to one side and sank into his favourite chair, groaning.  
“Joints again?” Raven said, sympathetically. Charles shook his head. “Muscle spasms. They’ll pass.” Raven nodded. 

Erik wandered in, carrying a clutch of empty tea cups.  
“Oh, thank you, Erik.” Charles said, gratefully. Erik smiled at him, brilliantly. Charles was distracted for a moment.  
“Charles thinks there’s a tea ninja in the house.” Raven said to Erik. Erik shook his head. Charles shrugged, and tried to stifle a whimper as the movement hurt. Erik’s eyes snapped towards the sound of pain, sharply. Charles tried to smile reassuringly at him.  
“Not to worry, just my cramps again-“

“Show me.” Erik said, setting aside the mugs and stalking over.  
“I- um, well, they’re just my legs-“ Charles said, hesitantly and then sighed, nodding. Erik proceeded to roll up Charles’s sweatpants and glare at the braces on his legs, as if they had worked for Shaw in another life.  
“Can… can touch?” Erik knelt in front of Charles’s chair and gazed upwards, appealingly. “Want to help.” He added. Despite the pain he was currently, Charles nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of Erik’s face turned up to his in entreaty like that.

“Um.” He said. Erik’s face began to fall. “Gently.” He said. “Very gently, please.” Erik nodded.   
Charles gasped, involuntarily as his leg braces undid themselves under Erik’s intent gaze. They floated off to the side as Erik squatted happily in front of Charles’ chair, and, very gently indeed, rubbed the calf of his left leg where it was tight with cramping, rebellious muscle. Charles bit his lip. Erik dug his thumb in, and hummed, approvingly as the knot released.  
“Soooo.” Raven said, slowly. “What’s got you in the need of a tea ninja, Charles?”

“Hank found some very- ah!- interesting papers.” Charles said, jerkily, as Erik continued to focus on his leg.  
“What papers?” Erik said, and dug in with his thumbs again.  
“Research papers.” Charles said, carefully, not wanting to trigger him. “They’re- it’s mostly numbers, so quite dull, but we’re looking at the number of mutants- people with gifts-, and how that number has changed.” Raven grinned and waved at him as she backed out of the room.   
“Numbers changed? More, or less?” Erik said, and started on Charles’s other leg.

“Well, that’s just it.” Charles said, shifting position in his excitement.  
“The way the numbers change, year on year, it looks as if some people are, or were, drifting in and out of categorization as mutants; which means that the rates of mutations that lead to identifiable gifts may be quite different.” Charles said. Erik hummed, thoughtfully.  
“Explain more?” he said, hopefully, as he shifted from rubbing Charles’ leg to rubbing his foot.   
“Oh, that feels very nice Erik, thank you.” Charles murmured, before warming to his theme.

**************

“Kid; you gonna help me with the fencing today?” Logan said, as he finished his sixteenth pancake. Erik smiled.  
“Yes.” He said, happily. “Won’t need hammer.” He explained to a sleepy Charles.  
“That’s marvellous.” Charles said, and stared at his coffee. “You’ve really-“ He looked up. Erik was standing over him. Moving slowly, as if Charles were a timid wild animal, Erik approached cautiously, and hugged him. Charles smiled, hugging him back. 

Charles was almost disappointed when Erik broke the hug, pulling back just far enough to study him carefully. He blinked at Erik’s intent scrutiny.  
“Do take-“ _care_ had had meant to say, but Charles stopped talking when Erik kissed him, gently cradling Charles’ face between his large, careful hands. Logan coughed out a laugh and disappeared, hastily, leaving his dirty plate behind. Charles sank into the kiss, hands drifting up to settle on Erik’s decidedly less-bony shoulders for a long moment.

“Bye.” Erik said, happily, when he broke the kiss. “See you at lunch.” And then he was gone.

“What?” Charles asked the empty kitchen. “What just happened?” Erik had hugged him; a normal and increasingly frequent experience, of late. But the kiss. That had… that had not been a familiar, or mild experience. That had been… unexpected.  
“Talking to yourself, Charles?” Raven said carrying a bouncing Kurt into the room.  
“Erik-“ Charles coughed. “Erik just kissed me.” He said, still dazed.   
“Oh.” Raven grinned a truly scary grin. _”Good._ ”

 

“Charles.” Erik said, for the third or fourth time.  
“In a minute, Erik.” Charles said, absently. “I just- these notes need going over one more time and then-“  
“Charles.” Erik said again. “Come eat.” Charles looked over. Erik seemed… nervous. Charles blinked, trying to work out why. His brain, slowed by another 12-hour work day, refused to come up with an answer. Charles smiled, reassuringly, and turned back to his notes. Behind him, unseen, Erik firmed his shoulders and came to a decision. He opened the door to corridor beyond, and took a deep breath.

“Put me down!” Charles said, sharply. Erik smiled at him, and said, cheerfully. “No.”  
“Erik, _please_ ” Charles said. “I’m _working._ The wheelchair floated on, serenely, out of the study. Charles gaped at him.  
“Was working.” Erik said. “Eating now.”  
“Well, I suppose a quick bite wouldn’t-“ Charles began to say  
“ And then sleeping.” Erik added, sternly, if somewhat cryptically.. “Eight out of 24.”

“What?”  
“Hank said.” Erik said, earnestly. “Sleep.”  
“I can’t stop for eight hours-!”  
“Can.” Erik said, settling Charles’s wheelchair down. “Will.”  
“Erik, really, I-“ Charles stopped as he gazed at the most perfect sandwich he had ever seen. “Did you make this?” he said, staring at it. Erik nodded, shyly. “Thank you.” Charles’ stomach chose to join in the conversation then, rumbling pointedly. Erik grinned, slightly smugly, and Charles had to laugh, despite himself.

************

 

“Bed.” Erik said, firmly. Charles blinked at him. “Bath first.” He added, questioningly.   
“Are you saying I smell, Erik?” Charles said. Erik looked stolid.  
“Saying you need sleep.” He said, steadily. “Maybe bath help. Upstairs, now.”  
“You know.” Charles said, giving in to the inevitable. “I am capable of looking after myself, at times.” He started towards his bedroom.   
“Not when I’ve been looking.” Erik said, and chivvied Charles up the stairs.

Charles sighed, but made no protest. By now, experience had taught him that if he transgressed Erik’s mystical rules as to when or how much sleep or food or, or whatever he should have, Erik would enforce said rules very firmly. And no one else in the house would say a word as they came across Charles being herded into the kitchen, or the bedroom, or, as now, into his bathroom.  
“Bath ready soon” Erik said. “Clothes. Please.” He added, as an afterthought.

“You know Erik, I can wash myself.” Charles said, and tugged off his cardigan.  
“Know you can.” Erik said, soothingly. He turned back to the water. “Also know you forget.”  
“I do not forget to wash!” Charles said, struggling with his socks.  
“Not washing.” Erik said, and held out an arm for support. “Forget taking care.” Charles leant on him, grateful for the extra balance. “Is alright.” He said, gently, as Charles blinked at him. “My job now.”

“To take care of me?” Charles pulled off his shirt. Erik too advantage of his proximity to move in and kiss him. Charles’s higher thought processes went offline, temporarily.  
“Yes.” Erik said, simply, and glanced towards the bath. “Someone has to; want it to be me.” The taps shut themselves off.  
“You want to take care of me?” Charles said, still slightly kiss-dazed.  
“Yes.” Erik said, again, as he helped Charles step out of his trousers and underwear, and into the bath.

“Always want to take care of you.” He added, as Charles sank into warm, foamy water.  
“That’s… that’s very nice. Warm.” Charles said, and did not know how much he was referring to the bath, and how much to Erik’s quietly spoken declaration of intent to care. Erik smiled at him, heart-stoppingly beautiful in that moment.  
“Take all kind of care with you.” He said, and picked up the sponge. He dunked it in the bath and added soap.

“Oh.” Charles said, weakly. He was aware that was an inadequate response, but Erik was moving the sponge in steady strokes across his back, and really, he was rather distracted. Erik poured water over Charles’ back.  
“Lean back?” he asked, and helped Charles adjust his position. Charles was shortly thereafter extremely pleased there were so many bubbles in the bathwater- it made concealing his reaction to the sponge rubbing over his nipples much easier.

“Hnk.” Charles said, aloud. Erik turned his head and smiled, slowly. He rinsed the soap of the sponge, and proceeded to use it to soak Charles’s chest again, rubbing slowly and gently across sensitised skin into Charles was half-surprised the water didn’t just steam off him of its own accord.   
“Erik.” He said, hoarsely. “I- That’s- Ohh-“ He gripped the handles of the bath in white knuckled desperation. Erik looked down at him; and Charles was struck by the sly look in his face.

“You’re doing this on purpose!?” Charles said, and made a slight whining noise as the sponge scraped over his left nipple again.  
“Yes.” Erik said, carefully. “Is ok?” and switched to washing Charles’s right nipple. Charles transferred his grip from the bath handles to Erik’s shirt, and yanked. Erik made a startled noise.  
“Get down here and kiss me.” Charles said. “Right now.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short epilogue. Subject E is done. That was fun!
> 
> In other news, the USA Supreme Court has struck down the badly named Defense Of Marriage Act AND Propostion 8!  
> And, over here, in the UK, the Same Sex Marriage Bill has reached the comittee stage in the House of Lords! 
> 
> _How marvellous._

Charles woke comfortably tangled up in Erik’s long limbs. He squinted at the alarm clock as Erik breathed peacefully into his ear. Six am. No need to move just yet, then. He snuggled back down. Erik began to stir, mumbling. His arm tightened around Charles as his forehead creased with sleepy anxiety. _All’s well._ Charles said, wordlessly, and Erik smiled, and stilled, forehead creases smoothing out. Charles smiled at nothing in particular. It was rather pleasant, really.

Charles examined himself for traces of a guilty conscience, but in all honesty, had to admit to himself he couldn’t find any. Erik had made most of the running, and, importantly had known what he wanted. He’d _definitely_ known what he wanted last night, Charles thought with another inward smile. And that had come after weeks of steady- not pursuit, no. Focus. Erik had focused on Charles, and if Charles had found him attractive before, now Erik was positively captivating.

“Thinking.” Erik grumbled into his pillow, accusingly. “Can feel it.” Charles lifted Erik’s hand and kissed it apologetically.  
“Something I do rather a lot of, I’m afraid.” He said, quietly.  
“Not eight hours yet. Should _sleep_ ” Erik said, and kissed Charles’s ear, drowsily.. Charles shivered, slightly. Erik muttered and dragged the covers up around them both, enclosing Charles in a warm cocoon of limbs and linen.

“We went upstairs at nine, love.” Charles said, helpfully.  
“Didn’t sleep then.” Erik said and Charles could feel the smile in his voice.  
“No.” Charles said. “I suppose we didn’t.” and he was smiling too, as he eased round to see Erik’s smiling face.  
“Alright?” Erik said, after a moment, faintly worried, still. Charles bit his lip, knowing the shadows in his lovers’ eyes were at least partially his fault.  
“I’m fine.” He said, after a moment. “You?”

Erik smiled at him, toothily delighted.

“Yes, well.” Charles said, after a moment. He shifted slightly. Erik wriggled closer.  
“Not getting up yet.” He declared.  
“No.” Charles agreed. “Not yet.” He ran his fingers through Erik’s hair, and tucked his fringe back. Then he seized the moment and buried his face in Erik’s chest- and really, it was a very nice chest. He’d noticed that the night before. Erik made a pleased noise, suspiciously similar to a purr, and closed his eyes. Charles had to laugh, just a little. Then he closed his eyes again, too.

 

 _-Charles!-_ Raven squawked in his head, sometime later.  
 _-What?-_  
-No one’s seen Erik-  
 _-He’s with me._ Charles said, sleepily. _We were **sleeping**_ \- he added, reproachfully. An enormous wave of glee washed over him.  
 _Raven…_ He said, warningly, but she had already started to talk to whoever else was in the kitchen. He sighed. 

“Erik.” Charles said, aloud.  
“Sleeping.” Erik said, eyes closed.  
“Breakfast.” Charles said, gently. Erik’s eyes snapped open.  
“I fetch.” He said, sitting up. “You eat.”  
“No, why don’t we just go down to the kitchen together?” Charles said. “Raven’s there.” And he tapped his temples.  
“Ok. Good.” Erik said, and swung his legs out of bed.  
“Possibly… dressed?” Charles said, slightly dry mouthed, as Erik paced naked across the bedroom. Erik grinned at him, and pulled on sweatpants. Charles pushed himself up and went in search of pants before risking the journey to the kitchen. They passed Logan on the stairs. He drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and then clapped Erik on the back, bracingly, and carried on, chuckling. Erik looked after him, clearly curious. Charles felt his cheeks flame, and hurried on before he had to make any embarrassing explanations.

“Hey, big brother.” Raven said. Stopped short, eyes widening- Erik had found sweatpants but hadn’t bothered with anything else, and small bruises and kiss marks littered his chest. “Hey Erik.” Raven said, slightly more weakly. “Bacon’s ready.”  
“Thank you, Raven.” Erik said, meaningfully. “Worked.” He beamed then, and a slow realisation crept through Charles’s mind.  
“Raven.” Charles said, as Erik pursued the bacon. “What worked?”

“He wanted tips on how to seduce you.” Raven said, grinning.   
“He what?!”  
“Well, to prove that he wasn’t planning on leaving you; that’s all.” Raven said, hastily.  
“Ever.” Erik said, peering at the pan with the bacon in it. “Bread?”  
“On the table, honey.” Raven said. Charles raised an eyebrow. “What? He’s good for you.”  
“Yes.” Charles murmured, watching the play of muscles across Erik’s scarred and beautiful back. 

“And vice versa.” Raven said, softly. “You adore each other, it’s sickening.” She smiled.  
“Thank you for that.” Charles said, and moved to take the plate Erik offered him.  
“Food is good. Eat.” He advised Charles, and padded back towards the stairs. Charles smiled at Raven and turned to follow him.  
“Charles, are you just-“  
“Going back to bed with the man I intend to spend the rest of my life with?” Charles said, dryly. Erik stopped, suddenly, half way up the stairs, and beamed down at them both. 

“Yes. I rather think I am.”


End file.
